The nurse tells me to count down.
10, 9, 8
Vision getting blurry, out of focus,
my body loses all sense of mass
and purpose.
7, 6,
I struggle to keep my eyes open,
colours blend and mix.
5, 4, 3
I hear a pop
it's like I'm plucked out of reality
And the world stops.
It just stops, it doesn't spin,
the atmosphere begins to thin.
I'm reawakened,
surroundings unknown,
head blown.
The world from before
a whiff of memory,
evaporating into the mist.
The hazy sheen of this new place
gripping me by the wrist,
leads me, its new companion,
shaken and dumbstruck.
Through all of my memories I crash
like a brick through brittle stained glass.
Not many to see,
but I recognise fragmental moments
of random days.
Warped views seem so true,
the world I trudge through,
though crooked with a red hue,
feels as real as the life
from which I withdrew,
but the images seen have a unique quality.
Like a dream or an unclear prophecy.
Further into oblivion I drift,
into the great chasms of space,
through vortices and rifts.
Voices follow, calling out.
An out of this world tone
an unearthly groan. I begin to doubt.
But what do I have to lose?
Letting these visions
show me their views.
The scenery swiftly shifts.
Now I'm in a field of green.
Is this a memory or a dream?
A vision of tomorrow
or some day yet to be seen.
It's the most peaceful I've ever been,
I could stay here forever
but my guide is so mean.
Then I'm in a stark cold carpark,
alone after dark, in fear,
wind whipping through my hair.
I feel that eyes are watching me
icy death like stares.
Feet running but the floor is unclear
Am I running on concrete
or through the swirling air?
Into deep recesses of my head, I’m led.
Into the shadows of a world
where blood once bled.
Time makes no sense,
It's been months, seasons change,
visions switch, stabbing pains
and the aching itch.
I've seen wars fought.
Walked the world and back.
Travelled through whole new lands
with new acquaintances,
faces that form from sand
a new wolf pack.
Goblin creatures
and me on the slab.
Cold and afraid,
they prod and they stab.
Poking around inside this old carcass
prone like an upside-down tortoise.
Vultures circle to rip the flesh from my corpse,
I know they are there I hear their dull squawks.
Then I'm back,
hospital bed.
Visions so real
dreams I could still feel,
months inside the unreal world
In truth days, weeks at most.
But I still see the ghosts.
They still walk with me.
In my deepest
hidden memories.
Thanks for reading
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