Some days, the world closes in around me.
For minutes at a time, the earth shakes as though a thousand dormant volcanoes have erupted in unison.
I chase after my breaths like a 5-year-old with bubbles on a breezy afternoon.
I am deaf to the beat of my heart.
The sun orbits the earth before I come around to the understanding of my plight.
I am at war with my shadow.
Afraid of fading from view, I like stringing sentences like tennis rackets.
Mantras slip through my fingers like perfect ex’s.
Questioning supposed recklessness I break fast.
Peace is a stranger that refuses to converse.
I silence the alarm despite being raised by a nurse.
Always an episode instead of a series.
The script seems more powerful every time.
Maybe this is what I deserve.
Payback for the other side of me.
Maybe it’s the design for me