Body heavy unable to move, myoclonic twitches permeate the being in a sensory world no one else is seeing . Streams of light and colour tainted by darkness flash in the mind in a world on the edge of sleep, this world in which I would like to keep. My breathing is slow and deep inside in my parallel universe just short of sleep.
I stir at noise and regain my poise hoping to drift back to that place on the edge, where darkness settles it’s head, when it’s needing it’s bed. Moments of panic, not knowing where I am, back in the real world on the edge of my mind. Yearning to return to that place again, that safe place from where I came. The place where no one drives you insane, the place I go to again and again.