Disconnected

A mess of paragraphs about an event of childhood.

Jumbled.


    My field of flowers has wilted and my beautiful ,galloping horse rots as it sinks below the ground. My dreams are not that of good will and  adventure but of cold, pinching fingers, invading and seizing me.

    Her pain is inflicted on me, his power swells my body, and ignites each nerve with the fire of hatred. There’s no silence, every motion whispers to me. Her cries frighten me and his tremors pull me down, down to his web.

    This infection is real. I feel it crawling in me.. I see dirty, faded fabric.. I smell her breath stale and dry.. I taste  the salty sweat of human skin.. I hear the laughter of my mother.

   This pain surges through me. Engulfing me in a cloud of black. I see my tears and I see myself watch each crystal drop.

   I’m too tired. I feel my strength, confidence and reason slip into unknown place. A place I cant imagine. I’m hollow, a empty shell of what I used to be. I cant control myself, I cant control anything.

   She’s hiding behind me, holding my hands and covering my eyes. She tugs on my strings and I become her doll. I am a pitiful creature trying to survive.

  I can’t see her, but I feel her here. And when I go numb, I don’t worry because I know she’ll save me.

Author's Note

I need help trying to make this flow. Any suggestions would be awesome.

Reviews

[An owl on the moon]

There is such a darkness here flowing through your lines, that "ominous cloud of black." You give us the glimpses inside you that share the haunted feelings of being alienated... isolated.. Profoundly moving.

[Hannah]

Wow.I love your comparisons.You have great vocabulary to.I thought it flowed just fine.While reading I felt what you were trying to explain.I really enjoyed it.:)