The starched warm slinking smell that burns as
you breathe in clean acid and words like biggestrisk
and wellpotentially… Ireallywouldn'tadviseit and
I'dsayI'msorrybutit'sunproffessional and I stand
and nod and say 'I understand?' and then the door
behind is closed and the corridors are crowded and
I can't escape these facts they have poured in my ears
and they're sinking into my brain and I just want to
cry in my mothers arms but she's so weak to emotions
and I couldn't possibly worry her and have her sink
again, so I move, each step a
knife in my foot and a numbing in my head as
around me the flurries of life and death go on despite
the fact that I
seem to have stopped.