Behind the horizon

When the sun sets behind the horizon, it can be hard to feel present. To feel as though you're still in the room and not drifting away. Anxiety and paranoia is hard to untangle yourself from.

That icky sensation of impending doom rolls over the skies. 

Coming in to seal your tomb.

Fluttering in your chest, a flock of doves clawing their way out.

Your skin so cool, so fragile. So bleak

Dread pools in the inner workings of your mind.

Fingers spread out against the blanket.

Counting all the textures, every bump and rigid line.

Exhale the ghosts from within, let them drift through the window.

Sift through the void, darkness cascading down your vessel.

Keep your eyes closed, until the horizon swallows your doom.