This is the exact moment. The moment when my mind starts blaring with this and that. My binder doesn't compress enough and I can't help but focus on what's underneath it.
My body not being something that I love. When everything frustrates me and I'm left wondering what to do. I cower and I cry and I let myself sink into a puddle of sheets and pillows.
The moment when the only thing I want to do is not exist. I want to grow wings and fly so far away that nothing reaches me ever again. I want to drift into outer space and let the void overtake me as I slowly float into a never-ending universe. I want to find a place where no one's around. A cliff at the edge of the earth. I want to stick my feet at the edge of the rocks and let the abyss absorb my voice. I want to scream so loud that by the time I'm finished I can't speak for weeks. I want my vocal chords to snap, my jaw to get sore.
I want the emptiness to hear me.
YOU ARE READING
Counting Steps
PoetryThere are a lot of things that try to make there way out but always find a way to stay in. So here, behind a screen, protected in the fortress of sheets surrounding me, I can say anything. Anything at all.
