P.T.S.D.

Sinking, reality shifts.

I see without seeing, yet seeing. 

What is is not, what was is now. Irregular heartbeat skips. 

The fingers of the devil dances within my rib cage, sliding like heavy serpents around my organs, threatening to smother me from within. As seens of sins plaid upon my flesh come to rest on the darkest recesses of my mind taking me away from here to there my soul not to be spared. A nightmare a daymare a dreammare or a life - mare that Stills me from the here and now to take me there. Emotions rise like waves over  the pain of yesterdays a shift a sound as I scream only to find myself back in the here and now. With rage I must swallow.