Sensory Overload

You know that feeling. 
When you're sitting there and you're not doing anything. 
And you start to zone out, but when you come back everything 
is all over the place and suddenly in your face
And your breathing gets loud 

and the sounds outside your room are too loud
and you notice every little speck of dust coming in through the window
and your skin itches in a terrible kind of way

so you scratch, scratch, scratch until it hurts but the itch is still there
and you want to crawl out of your skin. 
It feels like ants are running all over it.
Like spiders trailing down your spine.

 

It's like someone turned on the switch and everything feels wrong.
Your brain itches in your skull overwhelmed and you wish you could zone out again
You see every little thing in such detail it scares you and you want the itch to go away.

 

The only way to turn it off is to either get up or go to sleep, but sleep is impossible
the covers make your skin itch far worse, that bug feeling spreading and a chill runs through you despite the heat.

 

So you get up. The feeling doesn't leave, but it fades and you try to ignore the flashes of annoyance
at the sounds of everything, of everyone.
You seek some place quiet, but how do you escape from your own head?

 

After awhile you decide to play music until the grating sounds are soothing again.
Sensual, atmospheric tones and voices seem to work best. 
You draw for awhile, nothing concrete, nothing to be considered a doodle, but
something of motions, of art.

It soothes you most.

    This poem is about: 
    Me

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