I've never seen a clock in that room
The only way I keep time is the
Clomping of the foot steps
Of a woman-
No, wait, those are a man's-
That passes overhead
Every quarter hour for some reason.
I think those are the steps
Of some kind of politician.
All I know is that it is a man.

I feel the words droll out of my
Mouth and between my teeth.
Hasn't anyone ever heard
What I have to say?
No? Well that's unhealthy.
So I hear my own life
Fill the space between
My corpse and this
Stranger and somehow
I feel a little bit better.

A breath fills me and
My heart is of a normal beat
And it feels like I can walk
Without falling down.
Who knows, maybe I will try
The next time I get off
Of this couch.
I've been killing my feet
By touching the floor
Without the ability to
Really walk and now
I can feel the world open up.

I have had this feeling before
And it would come as fast as
It took my hand to glide
A blade over my skin and
For that same skin to split open.
But it would leave after a second.
Maybe it would last as long
As it took me to clean up the blood.
But it never lasted.
I had to go deeper.
And deeper.
And deeper.
Just to get the same feeling
Twice or three times.
It was never enough.

Walking out of this room is different.
I hear the man's foot steps
For the third, or fourth, time,
Depending on my stability
That day and
My feet hit the floor.
I am walking.
I feel awkward about grabbing
The door handle before the stranger.
But I decide that's okay.
I walk out.
I go home.
And I'm still okay.