Mars Hotel
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2001-08-01 05:04:19 (UTC)

Panic Attack

Like a man attached to a
breathing apparatus;
the plugs and cords ripped
from his slumbering body.
And his mind knows no pain,
but his lungs, his heart,
his entire existence
A spasm occurs in his arm
or his leg.
His body twitches
then shakes
The machines around him
play to their own tune
of random beeps and
high-pitched tones
he is at rest.
When they turn off the machine.
close his eyes

Like a man attached to a
breathing apparatus,
I too feel pain.
The suffocation of one whose mind
can't comprehend.
Confusion, disillusionment sets in.
The surrounding is not safe,
the surrounding is death.
The heart:
the heart put into a vice,
the vice squeezing and squeezing
until it is impossible to feel any more pain.
And the lungs:
no air, not enough air,
the breathing becomes shallow.
What once was taken for granted
is now difficult labor to endure.
The existence of self...
is diminished.
The world caves in,
even the air around seems to grow denser
pushing me into the non-existent black hole
behind me.

Pressure mounts more and more.
Invisible steam oozes out of the pores of my skin.
But it is not enough.
It is not enough,
and when the body cannot take anymore,
I am thrown into a pit of wails
and sobs that seem to cry out from the
depths of my soul.

But it is not over,
it can't be over.
Somewhere inside,
lurks the indescribable
and it will come again.

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