Catatonic

They say to stop flailing because it’s annoying. So my movements slow down… Still flailing- But in slow motion. Still speaking… Even though they can’t seem to understand. Eventually swaying gently. Like a porch swing. Or like seaweed at the bottom of a lake. Eventually running out of words. As if I had said every word and idea in the universe. And maybe I had… But I will never remember. And they will never admit it anyway.