I couldn't breathe.
I could feel my pulse become slower.
I watched it all in slow motion.
Again.
And again.
And again.
Until the numbness I had created burst into flames.
A ticking time bomb they fear I am.
I turn the tap immediately to cold.
As if it would help me calm down.
My eyes closed, my face submerged,
I let the water run, run down my face and to the floor.
I just want to run.
I get out, blinded from water in my squinting eyes.
Relaxing for the first few couple of tries. But it kept coming back , like a drum.
Its still coming back.
Its embedded in my brain.
A haunting memory stuck on replay.
I can feel everyone trying to dismantle the bomb.
And you know what happens when they cut the wrong cord?
Boom!
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A Journey Past Our Solar System: Poetry of a Borderline
PoesíaA Journey Past Our Solar System is mostly confessional poetry of my life in the few last years, structures of a dysfunctional family, in the middle of dealing with mental illness. A tragedy in the making of my brain turning into coal, ready to burn...
