Self-Portrait

Wednesday

No metaphors were harmed in the making of this poem.

Words spilling across the page
Veil drifting o’er my head
Insects dance, I disengage
Statue girl, she stole my bed.

Rain descends from the ceiling
Not outside with the orchestra
Hallucinations devoid of feeling
My beloved lachrymator…

Excuse me, it's raw.

Like the title says, no metaphors were harmed and no metaphors were used at all (except that one).

Because this is really what I've been seeing. My eyes are open, and the world shows me this. Whether it's my world or theirs, it's what's happening. And it scares me. It's scary when the world is singing and playing an orchestra to you, when words dance and turn into insects having a party, when it rains in your room and there's a live statue in your bed.
Not the first time I've hallucinated, and doubtfully the last.

At least this time I got to stay in this world... Like it's such a great place to be, huh?

What is the world trying to show me?
What does it want?