How do I explain

that sometimes, the night sky stops existing above my head and instead opens up like a gaping chasm in the bottom of my rib cage scraping my skin from the inside / i press my hand to my chest and for a flicker of a moment imagine ripping it open, watching inky black and Scarlett red pour out

that fear has found lodging in my larynx, trapping my words in a steel safe, my mind desperately works to puzzle out the code but it changes faster than I can input it / i raise my finger to my lips and imagine for a second what my words would look like if given physical form. blood blocks my airways and spills between the gaps of my teeth

that sadness circles around my wrists and fashions itself into a bracelet, locked and chafing, itching when the sadness grows and calling for relief/ i rub my wrists together and wear wristbands to distract the phantom feelings from the real ones.  It’s doesn’t take as much imagination as it should to picture how sadness looks when I pull it out of my skin

that exhaustion sits so heavily on my mind that it’s seeped down my spine and coated every vertibre with its tar-like embrace/ for a heartbeat i picture my gasoline-covered-bones burning like a sick science project

- How can I explain that oblivion lives in my chest and fear in my throat, sadness keeps me in cuffs and exhaustion cements my skeleton