Signs of Psychosis

In my reflection I see signs of psychosis. I see signs of the old woman I'll eventually be, if I'm lucky. In my reflection I see so much fear covered in skin. I see skin covered in invisible tattoos, freshly inked in, pinpricks all over me still bleeding. Blood welling in tiny little pinpricks all over. Blood in perpetual well. I was thinking about him earlier – he who I do not name but whom I tied my life and heart to for a time. I was thinking about how I don't think about you anymore, how repulsive and pathetic you seem to me now. I was thinking about how scared I feel in my body, so much more than usual. I don't know what's going on, but I feel like a thunderhead filling up the whole sky, pregnant with lightning and rain. Being ravaged inside by rolling thunder that destabilizes everything, or threatens to destabilize everything, or threatens to destabilize every ounce of security my body likes to think it has. I feel universes and kingdoms crumbling, stuffed inside a raindrop and I'm filled with raindrops – but they're not falling downward in an ordinary way. They shoot sideways, rise up against gravity, fire diagonally in chaos on my insides, burying themselves like bullets in the walls of my tissues, disintegrating me from the inside, scaring me scaring me scaring me. 

Thank you body, for keeping me healthy and safe. I say like a kidnap victim to my captor, fully knowing I have no idea what they have in store.

Thank you, body. I'm trying, body. Please please please don't hurt me body.

This came out when I gave my body a voice inside Body Writers, my somatic writing and healing circle. Learn to give your body a voice here.