(cw: kidnapping, ****** assault)
being paranoid is just being extra prepared for red dots, laser sights, red lights, blue lights. every
cigarette in the hands of passing strangers is an open flame and I dread like the pavement being burned and tread on, on the pavement, my feet walking
burned on the pavement, my feet tread
the cracks are inside dreading being stepped on
I test the walls by tapping on their shadows and humming over my shoulder, and without moving,
I imagine my escape at a circle of angles and determine the difficulty of each. the shadows merge and produce a man from a faceless corner
a shadow that had questions for me about a circle of angles
being extra prepared and protractor armed I scan and calculate for firearms and ****** features, hands in pockets, sharp objects, the signs of maybe a weak kneecap.
visions of epinephrine heroics, karate out of nowhere, super saiyan strength or sleeper cell ninja
the thoughts that come through tell me to stand my ground
in kind fashion, he asked for directions and left me disarmed
but once the dreams were done, the nightmare crawled out of the exhaust and the shadow grabbed from below
within seconds but feeling the eternal nature of prison cells, I was almost forced into the back seat, where I saw the scratches on the cushions as notches in hell
when the shadow stopped being a shadow I stopped being prepared
prepped and dreaded, treading in a circle of angles, desperately quiet,
the sound of rubbing nylon and heavy breathing to indicate conflict, cries for help escape after I do, looking for blue lights, sharp objects, red boxes and safety nets, threaded
light to knit out the shadows, weak in the kneecap dialing in
“Please give us your current location”
Myles Hall. Miles below, looking for my head in a circle of angles
this was inspired by a real event that, though horribly frightening, has been integrated to have a healthy effect on my prudence. abundant trauma therapy was critical to my recovery.
