Not Screaming (math class)
The air here is swallowing me
Thick as cement- my lungs cannot shape to breathe it in
The room is a cardboard stage
The light watery, flickering, flat as paper
Everything here reeks of defeat, like carrion on a battlefield.
Funny, because I don't remember the battle.
Emptiness of chalkdust and blank paper
Taste the scream on the tip of my tongue, green apple
Savouring it, bittersweet acid in my mouth
If I were to let it out, the air would steal it from me.
Fluorescent lights buzz like a fly with its legs torn off
Blood drumming in my ears, my head is a black hole
I am not here, I think.
I am drowning really I am drowning.
Have you ever
been a stranger in your own body
like your mind
wandered out the door
down the street in the rain
then came stamping back home
the rain is in your hair and in your jacket
drenched, soaking the floor
(hang up coat and keys, wipe rain from your glasses, kick off your boots)
And since you've been outside
everything has changed.