My eyes squint
As if there is some detail
Some piece of evidence
That I’m missing

I scour photos
I comb through messages
Looking for clues
Looking for a window
A peak into the days before

A mind bent on experiencing freedom
A body for that mind
Equally bent
A mind, running in circles,
A jaw, running in circles,
Molars meeting and exchanging blows
The dust settles on that tongue
That white tongue which speaks
White lies
To that mind
That mind which I hate
That mind which I hate

Who ever thought
I’d be wishing for a flashback

I don’t want to be alive anymore

Our backs hold stories
Not even the spine
On a book can handle