Trastorno

Fear is

The unwillingness to cut my fingernails

Lest I be without a weapon.

Expecting everyone to hurt me

With every passing second.

Trauma is

Unbridled rage when someone is flippant about the two ton metal monster they command with the twist of a wheel.

Catastrophic thought is

The absolute assurance that someone is dead

When they don’t pick up the phone.

PTSD is not

Being careless with emotions; immature and loud

Over-sensitivity because of insecurity

Or disliking certain sounds

Post traumatic stress is

Sweating through your decaying dreams

Waking to silent, dehydrated screams

Covered in despair, certain the lives in your sleep would still be out there

If not for your own failure.

It’s

The inability to face that room

The panic that comes over you

When a movement doesn’t belong; someone’s behavior is jarring or

Wrong.

It’s bracing for blows that may never come

After so many years of not being ready and getting knocked down

You can’t bear the possibility

Of another blindside,

so you

Expect pain

And torment, crime

And death

And blood and fear and trauma

All. The. Time.

snapshot

i am grateful in this moment, in this instant, for this time

am happy the stars are back and lighting up my mind

today i love him, today i’m fine

i refuse to wait for the day to end.

 

Has my trauma changed its form?

A deadly illness, starving-worm

Am I cursed to walk the earth, a

New impossible every morn?

Why can’t I leave the shadows behind? They change

Their shape

And follow me

I hate their voices, despise their smiles

But I can’t stop letting them crawl

All

Over

What can I do

To finally be free?

Someone tell them I’m

Done wandering