Cold

A table appears out of thin air
My limp body sprawled across skin fair
You can see the sludge my blood gone cold
The room shifts into a hospital fold

The lights get brighter I can feel the tension
My body bloating out in extension
The trance seems to last forever
Walking through my house stuck in this endeavor
I died from Xanax a white froth gathered at my bloated lips

The image begins to slip
I hear tanner calling out for me
But I’m so far out of this dimension to see
The room shifts back
The demons howling my mind stacks
Voices layer on top of each other

I can’t make a sound not even a mumble
Sprinting out of my house I stumble
My mind alone shaking under too much effort
To becoming its own voice separate

The twelve others drowning it out
Hearing myself again when he carries my limp body toward him without doubt