i hit my head.
one by one, my senses blink out on me.
my ears ring, and the sounds around me get dull and muffled.
my sight gets a little darker than it should, and stars dance in front of me.
i bite my tongue, drawing blood, and my throat dries like cement.
my hands go numb, and my skin gets cold and brittle to the touch.
i smell ceramic and stone pressed against my face, unyielding.
the second time i hit my head,
it's on purpose.
now my senses fade, but not enough.
i can hear my heart beat, against my will, against my wishes.
i could never see red, but even i can see deep-wine and rust-brown on the wall.
i taste only bitter, iron and resentment against the flesh i bite into.
i can feel only a humming, deep in my skull, and the thin trail of tears.
i think i broke my nose, now only copper and acid flow through it.
i hit my head, once more, harder.
still, it's not nearly enough.
i still hear whimpers and whispers.
i still see blurs and blots of light.
i still taste agony and ash.
i still feel needle and fur.
i still smell fear and decay.
i still remember.
gods, i still remember.
how many times until i fade out too?
how many times until i blink out too?
how many times until it all blacks out,
like blood scraped off of walls,
or washed out of mattresses?
i hit my head once more,
with all i have, what little i still do.
gods, i still remember i killed you.
memory is not one of the five senses but, if i hit my head hard enough,
maybe it'll go away like the others, too?
