Delirium.

It came upon me like a shadow

and the whispers that followed said,

 

"Delirium -- thank God." Thank God:

it was only delirium. No;

 

it wasn't.

It was the music –

 

I needed to hear the music,

to hear even the water on the stove sing

 

as it boiled.

The pause between songs

 

drove me into a terrible, disjointed synchronicity;

an endless question:

 

how long was I able to suffer?

 

Now

I am

 

breathless --

slow to be quick,

 

and I can't control the way

my mind likes to wander

 

while I methodically embed myself

into the notes I hear,

 

but if you ask me

for the meaning of my life,

 

I can smile.

 

Comments

Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.
 

 

If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741