About the void, and the volume, and the "all-at-once."
An invisible ghost stands firm upon my chest,
collapsing the pipes, stealing the rest.
I reach for a word, but the throat is dry;
it’s hard to ask for help when it hurts to even try.
The mind is a sprinter, the body a stone,
twitching in rhythm to a fear of its own.
Electric zaps flicker, a short in the wire—
I am a house on a hill, and the hill is on fire.
Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Am I breathing yet, or just counting the fail?
The "Shoulds" start their march, a relentless parade:
Be thinner. Be better. Don't let the light fade.
The spouse, the worker, the mother, the saint—
I polish the mask until I start to feel faint.
Not for my sake, but for those in my wake,
for Avi, whose heart is the one I won't break.
I must build her armor, I must be her guide,
while I drown in the doubts I’ve buried inside.
Then there is us—the space in the bed,
the "stay or go" echoes that live in my head.
We’ve drifted like icebergs on different tides,
with nowhere for love or for longing to hide.
Quiet, now. Shut down. Sleep.
I pull the headphones tight, a leather seal,
letting the heavy bass dictate what I feel.
DJO pulses like blood through the vein—
someone else’s lyrics singing my pain.
But the rhythm is fleeting; the smoke is a ghost,
a ten-minute mercy at the very most.
The high fades away, the silence grows thin,
and the anxiety settles back under my skin.
origamiaround
ellievsbear
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