i want to rip my skin
from my skeleton
like a turtleneck sweater
on a boiling hot day.

there are ants marching
through my blood stream -
the minuscule pitter-patter
of their tiny feet
feel like pin pricks and
sound like a marching band.

i no longer need my glasses.
every colour is too bright
and every movement is too sudden.
i close my eyes to briefly escape
the visual barrage before me.

every 'quiet place' contains
a secret orchestra
that plays only for me.
i look around,
clutching my ears desperately,
as others continue their lives
blessedly ignorant of the
overwhelming experience
surrounding us.

i curl into myself on the floor,
eyes clenched shut,
hands over my ears,
rocking back and forth
to soothe my overstimulated body
in what i hope is a soothing manner.
together we wait out the storm
that rages within.
© O.M.A

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