The heavy weight presses down,
making itself known at the most inopportune times,
Eating into the choking fog behind my eyes,
my thoughts disconnected from reality.
Psychosis they called it.

Every footstep an earth shattering leaden trod,
Every act dissected and examined,
Like the callous metal slicing through the host of memories.
The blackness descends.

The glistening golden envelopes the land
of my childhood,
An outsider, i glimpse the rays through my personal mist
And return to my daily task of avoiding the lead weight of my guilt
The nausea always but moments away.