Somewhere in the distance, a cup shatters.
Not the sudden piercing cry of glass
but the rumbling of ceramic.
You watch it barrel toward the ground
but the bullet is aimed at your forehead.
The tomb cracks open and the locusts swarm
across deserts and swirling oceans
whizzing like blades through your neurons
causing a tornado to open up inside and around you.
You are in the center, but are anything but
centered.
There’s tea everywhere and the infection
is so loud.
But it doesn’t drown you.
Instead you’re inside a well where
the bricks keep tilting
and every little scrape of chair,
hollow buzz of elbow against table,
every word of every conversation of every person
fills your body with poison.
You can’t even pray, lest the camel break his
back.
Dread begins to weave its knots.
You tell yourself you are fine, a familiar echo.
You are fine.
And you KNOW you’re FINE
but still the mallet of fear strikes
your bewildered heart numb.
Each breath a vibrato screaming its aria down your
arm,
your fingertips,
the side of your face,
your tongue,
until all the blood of the Nile isn’t enough
to quench your tiny veins.
And the fever can’t comfort the trembles.
Even the words are too heavy to retch,
and every plague you have ever known
comes to rain its fiery kiss.
You fight to look away—you are FINE,
yet remain your own slave wondering
if this fumbling is the result of too much sin.
All you can do is patiently wait for the water in
the glass
to quiet,
wait for the pillage to leave you crumpled and
weary.
And then you stand up again
and each time you do,
you notice just how beautiful all of the pieces
are.
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| IG: @daydreamifications |
