to put it more eloquently because being dramatic has awarded me safer bills of health in the past:

remember how you colored lisa frank patterns around question marks to illustrate a song about disassociation
how you gave in and turned on live visions of flag-clad maniacs fueled by fascism, supremacy, conspiracy, and poverty
how you struggled to turn down the television volume when the phone rang
because the remote was buried in blankets
because the first call said you were fine
and everyone knows what a second call means
a correction
but luckily you rehearse nightmare scenarios all the time, so you knew your lines and took notes
and you would have made it through totally fine if your cracked joke hadn't lined up with the image of that fur-dressed fuck
so your voice cracked like your poor joke did
ah, such betrayal comes with the loss of control
one might call it insurrection if one weren't too busy considering the definition of insurrection
and there's not enough space to debate whether it's the body against the mind or the other way around
remember how you sat very still while the tv kept talking
until you jumped from your skin when the phone started blaring
an emergency system alert is the same whether amber alert or curfew
missing children or police precincts
surreality as trauma processing
you did it last year, you're going to do it again
remember how you wondered why the tornado siren test was cut short
how you wished it wasn't across the street
how you will be grateful to be the first to know
anything, everything
the unknown is betrayal
remember how you snapped out of it and made the calls

[edit: literally the instant I posted this, the doctor called - fuck anyone who says I don't have magic and that diaryland is not an effective tool]