It's moving too fast

I can't catch up,

I'm awkwardly

Out of place,

Nervously stationary,

Silently wrong,

Majorly disconnected

From the reality

That consumes me.

Down with those

Who tempt me,

In with those

Who love me,

Disappoint me,

Ruin and destroy

The content in which I had.

There's nothing left

Except for the strands of my soul,

Floating where I can see them,

Watching my own self-destruction.

The peeling of layers,

Of my well-being.

Slowly consumed,

But very much aware,

Like an open operation,

Alive and awake,

Yet dead and buried.