It's Not Paranoia If They'Re Really Out To Get You

As loud as I can be, I wish I knew how to scream. And as much as I can talk, I wish I could speak. As big as my vocabulary, I wish I had the words. As indestructible the thread is from which my lips are sewn shut, I continuously try to pull them apart in a vain attempt to reach out. My fingertips stretch, and they reach. I claw in agony but grasp nothing but air. I come just short, yet again. A moment’s hesitation is all it takes to realize That I can’t breathe, That I can’t see, That I can no longer feel the smooth, shiny material I once rest my fingers upon. That I am gasping for air and all for nothing because my mouth. won’t. open. And I know now that this is it, this is my end, but that faint, white light is still there. Maybe someone will find my ghostly pale skin sticking out from the brick in the wall, and I’ll be yanked out if only for a moment. A few minutes of air is all that I need.