Member-only story
POETRY | MENTAL HEALTH
Silent Escape
A mental illness that’s often misunderstood
“The appetite for silence is seldom an acquired taste.”
— Emily Dickinson
He lapsed into a fugue state.
Eyes rolled back in his head.
Body rigid in the distant past
where crimes go unnoticed,
and the present is a blur.
I can only imagine
a body dissolved into inertia,
finding comfort in a safe space.
Catatonia is like a meditative coma
without a zafu cushion.
It takes patience and trauma
to make a silent escape.
Something you can’t do on a whim,
or practice blindly, but a skill
like holding your breath underwater.
Frozen between now and then,
labeled psychotic by many,
drooling dreams and memories
from an open mouth,
sipping the world through a broken straw.








