Jack
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WpMetadataNoticeLast published Fri, May 3, 2019
my head slowly bobbing, nearly asleep at my desk, the papers blowing gently from the half opened window to the left of me. The teacher writing words in another language, weird oblongish letters. twisted, mangled. My eye lids feel like 10 tons. I stare at the letters and drift off.
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In my nightmares I am trapped on a mental ward. I can't move my hands without feeling the restriction of the straps. My head is as clear, no trace of the "madness." I strain against the black polyester with every ounce of strength and still I can't budge. My back hurts right to the base of my spine. Saliva is pooling in the back of my mouth. The staff have gone. I am alone. My heart pounds, ready to explode; my eyes scan left and right for signs of someone coming to help. No-one. Worn green curtains hang limp on flaking chrome rings and though the gap passers by pay me no attention at all.

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