Black-coloured consciousness.

My back is arched 

My head is levitating upwards

And my hair is tickling my spine

My toes are curled 

My feet are bent and crooked-

Blood starved;

All numb and frozen 

Buried under my thighs.

I can’t move anything.

An invisible hand is pulling me backwards.

Choking my veins of morality.

I try to wiggle my feet but it’s no use

The red bones of my heart have finally broken.

No blood. No movement. 

My body is crookedly twisted inward,

Something is trying to tear through me

I open my eyes, and all I see is pitch terror. 

Waiting to strike.

Any moment now.

I can’t speak. I can’t scream, I can’t move. 

And now I am finally about to cry.

Help.

Get me out, please.

But nothing is happening.

Muffling the screams of my nobility;

This has silenced me.

A wave of morbid pleasure tears through my numb mind,

I pass out again;

In my black-coloured consciousness.

All I have to say is that I wrote this when I had the most captivating and pleasant nightmare of my life. Essentially, it was this momentous experience of raising a monster within my soul. It was terrifyingly delectable and quite intellectually perplexing. You see, there's this raw surrealism of being animalistic within one's conscious.

Utterly and truly consciousness-altering!

ps: as you can see, this is not normal and I am not very sane. so before diagnosing me, please do hold yourself back from such narrow-minded thoughts, and simply just enjoy the poem, but actually don't just enjoy, also make sure that you cognitively dissect it :D

Goodnight then,

With my black-coloured consciousness,

XOXO,

🧚🏻‍♀️MaryTheLamp