How Paranoia Feels

i’ve got reality slipping out of my hands, my tenuous grip becoming looser. with every of second of silence, becomes a screaming echo of paranoia.

every sharp pain in my body is a message to my soul, each message decoding a static print of latin. a compulsive complex that makes me feel like death is at every walking dimension.

eyes of judgement stripping me naked, i reach for god’s hand to save me this humiliating vulnerability. but all i receive is this nauseating silence.

Hi, i’ve just started writing poetry, and i dont know too much about poetry grammer/stanzas. thank you for any feedback:)

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