This thing that stirs can’t be overcome.
It starts like a steady, aching hum
building to a bumble bee’s buzz
while a yellowjacket does what it does,
speeding like a train about to derail,
shocking and shaking, you begin to wail,
attacking your entire being,
things seem unlike you’re seeing,
feelings of lightning bolts bursting,
muscles tightened, face grimacing, lips pursing,
teeth clenched are desperately biting.
There’s just no use in fighting.
You try to escape it, try to move
Those around you haven’t a clue
Back and forth, a frenzy ensues
Its torture shakes your mind loose.
Thoughts strike like you’re a lightning rod,
delusions are saturated with God.
Death becomes something you can’t avoid.
You’re now more than just paranoid.
A snap, a shot, or slash,
As reality, an akathisia clash.
Mad in America hosts blogs by a diverse group of writers. These posts are designed to serve as a public forum for a discussion—broadly speaking—of psychiatry and its treatments. The opinions expressed are the writers’ own.
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