The Lunatic is in My Head

The lunatic is in my head. He spins my thoughts around his wooden wheel like yarn, twisting and warping them to his satisfaction. Normalcy once resided within me but now I exist as a vessel for his psychotic games. He forbids me from looking at my reflection to see a human form peer back, instead I see an entanglement of memories, forged and crafted into limbs and torso; the words and images swim and swirl before me. He exploits my past to shape my present, forcing me to live as a desolate entity with no escape. I dream of death as my strongest desire and when I'm permitted to speak I beg him to allow it. But without my susceptible brain to house his damnable being he would forever perish, and so my pleas serve only to rile him further until he bestows his ultimate punishment. He stops the clocks and propels me into timeless suffering where moments passing cannot be gauged and the past is as present as the future. His occupation of my mind therefore continues to suffocate my thoughts, choking me with self-loathing and desperate confusion. I feel nothing and hear only screams. He manipulates my movements to force my survival, a cruel puppeteer who obviates any attempt I may make to perish my withered body into the comfort of nothing. I am barely alive, hanging on by a thread he will never allow to fray.

Written by an Elf and inspired by Pink Floyd x