Obsession

My bones make a funny noise like my teeth used to do. With my old and tired arms i continue to row stroke after stroke i am a living muscle. The sea is dark underneath and a scarlet voice calls me. I can not stop. I continue to roam and my arms become made of wood as they are the roams themselfs. Gently the cold and oily water starts crawling under my skin in a freeze thaw that won't make me stop. Stroke after stroke i'm a living muscle.

Fight or Flight reaction

paranoia of people that live underneath to eat your thoughts. can my dreams be felt? are my thoughts of myself only? daydreaming makes the paranoia grow in the silence of overwhelming whispers... becoming to afraid to think, you want to be safe, underneath a warm matress of kindness, in the safe solitude. away from the vortex eyes of others. maybe the guilt travels in my genes and sooner or later i'm gonna live in a new realm