Fibromyalgia fog

Deep, impenetrable fog suddenly descends

from the sea,

swirling like cotton-wool balls

pulled apart.


It slumps down in a chair,


its sheer mass dragging it closer to the ground,

the seat fibres stretching and groaning under its weight.


Rumbling snores

signal there’s no chance of it moving soon.


I trudge on through murky, grey candyfloss to the shore.

The tide out; the only escape over the treacherous marshes.


Slow-mo squelching,

heaving each limb from the gelatinous bed

like unsuspecting fingers caught in superglue.

Legs tire as though Nordic walking through a swimming pool.


Those twinkling lights and familiar sounds of normality on the mainland

an unattainable goal in the distance.


The cold, soft mud then opens up, sucking me inwards

like a snake’s mouth widening to engulf its prey,

gripping my body in a sleepy inertia.


And with one gulp,

I’m gone.



Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s