Time Warp Blues

Illustration by Wanda Carreras

i’ve been in my house 

for how long?

maybe minutes? maybe hours? maybe years?

my home is a time warp 

the rooms have turned into their own worlds, and i switch between them to escape them swallowing me whole 

my phone and laptop are rooms of their own. 

my apps are worlds of their own. 

they’ve been slowly combining into one large miyazaki style monster ready to eat me happily. 

i think at this point i'd let it. 

i’m on the couch, not because i want to be this close to the ground, 

but because, right now, there’s no other place where i can breathe. 

my body is dragging along, my mind is nicest to its vessel when it’s suffering, 

but my mind can be nice for so long before it gets worn out 

so then i cried when it hailed because it was the first time i wasn't overstimulated.

when i looked outside, i was reminded of how alone i am 

how stuck i am, no matter how many people are in my home, phone, or head 

i need constant stimulation or i will crumble past the floor. 

my mind can’t reason with the anger it feels towards selfish people.

my rationale turned red itself, vowing to cut off everyone with mistakes. 

they should venmo me $10 for the suffering they induced.

fucking hypocrites. 

it would be good for my mind to sit at the window and sing the blues

but my body would scream and push me back on the couch where i belong

where we belong?

I don’t know how much longer i have. 

if i’m being honest, i think time is just a bubble

and hope is just a word 

and my mind has just decided that all of my words no longer hold any meaning

as long as i’m here