The Illusion of Connection: Navigating Emotional Barriers

The Black Thread

There is electricity humming through my skin—

a buzzing just below the surface,

wasps in my veins

circling, circling,

never striking the target.

A circuit contained,

but not wired in.

mercurial mercury is the blood in my veins

a flowing poison,

dulling my senses,

Smothering everything in its fake shine.

A spume of gauze wrapping my brain,

sending out its toxic threads,

tricking my synapses

to connect with the net of grey mass.

A fog masquerading as thought.

This is a facade—

a drama, a play,

acting out the unreality

of life’s meaningless drudge

Blinded by the woven cage of threads,

Of black lines casting shadows

on the world beyond.

Inside myself,

Hopelessly lost in the thicket—

A web of lies,

Of stories spun, of deception and fantasy.

I am not connected. Disconnected

I cannot connect.

What is real?

The settled contentment of flat affect,

a dull emotional hush—

comforting,

but it itches.

It urges me to act,

It twitches.

It shakes my hands.

to move,

to do—

but twitches backward awkwardly,

failing again again

I am changing.

Into what?

This fired current in my bones—

a flash of lightning—

then gone.

Dissipating into false connections,

Of black threads pulling me down.

My arms tangled in gauze,

my legs tripping over shadows and lines.

I cannot move forward.

Barriers barriers barriers

I cannot move back.

Trapped

in a distant cage

folded deep

in grey,

numb matter.

Clouding all connections.

Neuron to neuron—

nothing.

Nothing

Nothing

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