my body is a series of dizzying corridors and windows painted shut. for a moment I forget and the red on my skin reminds me. and there are two choices, survive or don’t.
colors blend together painting the grey that is my life. you said you wouldn’t and you did. 11 walls for each year until I don’t feel anything.
my hands are not mine, my lungs and blood and bones are not mine. the stomach sick with fear is not mine. and I know now that love is not blind. arms outstretched but severed like limbs in a storm. I can’t pretend to be who I was. the world swallows me up and I feel so small. burned up like worms on the hot pavement. there is nowhere to go that doesn’t hurt.