My neurodivergent mind is overwhelmed with pressure, struggling under the weight of the sea.
Yet, amidst the chaos, God reaches down to pull me from the depths and set my spirit free.

-Rhia Clay

what is it to be numb?
is it to feel nothing or to feel everything so much its too much
is it to be so aware you can just shut it off
or is it just simply surviving
maybe the answer is differently for everyone but for me
being numb is everything and nothing at the same time
feeling so many things you just feel nothing
being confused and not being able to know your true feelings
being numb isn't the absence of emotion
its to be so overwhelmed with your feeling you don't know how to really feel them.

Sleep is a funny thing,
A place that’s hard to go.
Will she keep me peacefully,
Or smother me in my woes?

Will it be restful,
Or will I wake up in pain?
Tossing and turning through the night,
Lack of sleep driving me insane.

Sometimes she greets me softly,
With dreams sweet as honey,
Other nights she’s cruel,
Nightmares so real I'd give therapists money.

I lie there counting shadows,
Tracing cracks along my wall,
Begging her to claim me,
As the hours slowly crawl.

Sleep-deprived woman,
Navigating life’s maze-
No time to sleep when
There’s coincidences for me to appraise.

Everything has a purpose,
Can’t rest till I have an answer.
A tough relationship with slumber,
But ****, she’s my favorite dancer.

I don't even have hobbies anymore
I just cry,
Competitively

I have no guidence.

Searched on every summit
for some lost elusive cure,
and for the alchemy to make
me feel like I was pure.

Violently, I've torn through
the marrow of all I am,
begging every single deity
I've known for their hand.

I have no peace.

Maybe healing will never surface,
Maybe muffled by the sand.
A doctrine for the hopeful,
Who will never understand.

Wounds have always held
Daggers that were never removed.
What if pain protects the heart
Because it never is renewed?

I have no harmony.

Singing broken hymns can birth
another's hymn of praise.
Unspoken cosmic laws that state
Examples must be made.

I am never truly broken,
I can wish to be in time,
But I remain a quantum sonnet,
That is void of any rhyme.

I have no exit.

Maybe there is grace that lives
Within my wilted plea.
In knowing, I'm exactly
Who I knew I'd always be.

In a life of pulling chains,
Tethered to a hopeless mind.
What is left within a soul,
To see a purpose that's divine,

Without the residue of ash
From embers charring bone?
Without emotions echoes,
That have turned it into stone.

The cold sweat of empathy
For the fellow misbegotten.
Or wihout the twitching nerves
Of a body that is rotten.

I have no dreams.

I cannot find belief in me
For false restoration.
No longer a beggar for
A hollowed-out salvation.

I walk with aching fractures
To a rapture born in rust.
A fate I feel deep in my core,
That all is made of dust.

I have no reasons.

What's the purpose
For this riddle I weave?
Is there truth in what remains,
Or is truth in what will leave?

As I stand, a withered body,
weeping now without a plea.
I am all I ever was,
All I've known I'd ever be.

I have no future.
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