Disease

Disease

It's a Disease, I tell you. It's most certainly a Disease. They just haven't labeled it yet.

I can't move. I can push my palms against the bed and heave. Then look down upon the pillow from dizzying heights. And fall. Flop, actually. Flop and feel my saliva spill forth all over the velvety cushions.

I can't breathe. I clench my fists and constrict my nose. I feel my lips part and shudder. Their dryness and their chapped crevices. I remind myself to suck it in. Poof! That's all I get.

I can't feel. I watch happiness blaring. Like cheap commercials after 11pm. The kinds that make eyes water and foreheads ache. I feel it trying to rouse me. Hit me on the head. Buzz in my ears.
I feel sadness trying to creep inside. Dig it's claws beneath my skeletal frame. Nothing.

I Can't wake up. Can't stop dreaming. Can't walk. Can't stop stumbling. Can't scream. Can't stop thinking. Can't can't can't. Absolutely cannot.

It's a Disease, I tell you. It's most certainly a Disease. They just haven't labeled it yet.

- Akshay
( Photograph by Simon Rutter)