I can hear their voices outside of the toilet walls
I can feel them striding though narrow hallways
I can glimpse them though the curtains of my hair
And the gaps between my fingers
I can feel them, feel them around me
In the tingling of my skin
like a thousand tiny needles
In the tightening of my chest
like a noose around my heart
They are here. They are empty. They are blank
They exist in a world I no longer inhabit
They exist in reality
Their eyes hide my shame. I want to disappear forever.
What would it take for me to go, to leave this
toilet stall and make eye contact and for these words
to leave my mouth?
It would take everything, it would take so much more than I can ever give
I can't.
So I will sit here and work on my project and drown out
the memory of their voices with the sound of my music.
And I will survive, I will last because its all I can do.
I will continue (at least until I don't) because that is all I can do.
This is all I have, the space between my ears, encased in
a shell of bone is all that I have. This is it. Everything else is just a response.
So take it, take it. Take all of me, but never take my mind.
I am afraid, I am afraid that this is dying.
My only thing, all that I have may be dying
Is the space between my ears good, is it enough?
Because that is all that matters.
That is my only variable.
The only thing that will make a difference
is, is the thing in my head good enough
YOU ARE READING
The Wind
PoetryA collection of poems, short stories and writings. Well, essentially just poems at the moment. Variety of influences I will always be willing to disclose for specific poems. Some are darker than others (see tags for possible triggers). Please commen...
