I was silent for a long time.
Sotto voice of an inner monologue
when the room was barren.

Ambiance, antiseptic smells,
plastic and cold metal,
yet I felt diseased.
A viral infection
tended to by women in scrubs.
Too-bright lights
dilated my pupils,
and illuminated the evidence
of my actions,
the acts
that brought me there.

They all asked:
What happened?

It was cold and burning and
all I could see was red.

What did you do?

I let go.

My heart fluttered
to the throb of my skull
like it might take flight
or explode.
I was fine with either.

Somehow,
I am awake.

And the nightmares
are worse.