It’s 11:59. There’s a ringing in her ear. Ring in the new year as they say. Or is it a new day? They’re close enough anyway, and when the minute turns over it will be an ending and she needs that ending like she needs the ringing to drown out the endless voices and start again in silence. It’s silent now, late at night, home alone. She vaguely wonders if she remembered to lock the door, but it’s loud inside, hammering painfully against her skull, making her squirm and look at the clock for the numbers to turn. To end.
Arouse a building nausea.
They lost themselves in mind’s recesses and won’t stop echoing.
It’s a dream that filters behind the eyes
Celebrated with fireworks, red and gold.
But not too much or your eyes will get stuck
And you’ll be lost inside your eyelids forever
Is a wish
For an empty mind and empty body
Filled only with drums.
Delicate white branch
Laced with the snowfall of night
Vanished in the sun
She begins with herself, always. In the present tense and first person, she is always the crystal to focus the light of her own mind. A turning inwards, a breath. Who am I today? She wondered, echoing the calls of a thousand young children across the globe. Why today? Came the teenage call, yearning for purpose. When can I rest? She asked, as she suddenly felt her body grow old. She begins with herself but herself is a multitude and she cannot end until she has touched them all. Her crystal has grown diffuse. She cannot see in the gloom.
I’m sitting in a cube
Always in cubes
Open air is foreign, and so I pack my
Spaces into boxes
Filled with boxes
To pretend I take up space.
The boxes are sharp, all straight lines and corners
So I went myself into curves
And ooze into empty places
Hoping the edges don’t cut
I don’t fill the boxes
I can’t feel the boxes alone
It’s easier to pretend I’m not here at all.