Bare foot,
I
Stand alone on
The
Cold tile
Of
Another foreign room.
Thoughts
Are
Fleeting in this
Day and age,
And
I close out
The
World for two seconds,
Unaware
Of
Where I stand,
Who I am,
What I’ve become.
I
Let my skin
Contact
The cool wet sting
Of
The walls.
Hoping,
Beyond all life
That
It will all end soon.
To
Endure another day,
To
Cause that much agony.
It’s
So
Surreal.
My cheek slides
Down
The wall,
And
I’m suddenly strangely aware
Of
What’s happening.
Of
What’s come and gone,
of
what’s going to occur.
The
Walls are real,
This life,
A dream.
I
Open my bloody eyes,
A
Shocking green
Blundered
By the red
Of
Endless tears
And
Restless nights.
I
Twist the faucets
On,
And flood the
Porcelain sink
So smooth and calm,
and
Hiding years
Of secrets
And
Passions.
The water
Is
Freezing,
Everything is cold today.
It’s fitting.
The
Skies are crying,
The
World is in mourning.
The
Tears are warm,
This is new.
After
Everything that’s cold,
It’s
Almost refreshing
To know
That there’s still a live function
In
My broken
Shattered
Bruised
Bleeding
Crying
Shell of a body.
The
Water flows over my skin,
Drips
From tiny rivers
Forming
Around my
Emotionless face,
Combining
In an ocean
Of
Mixed regrets
At the tip of my chin.
The cool water
Intermingles with
The
Tears,
And again
I’m
Bestowed with
Another
Shocking reality.
Conformity.
This silent
Joining
Melding
Dance
Of
The water
And
My tears
Are like society and its faults.
With this
Thought
Held high,
I regain composure
And
Step into the day,
Ready for
Whatever is dealt
In
The poker game
Of
Life.
Let it be known
As
Recovery
Or
Consciousness regained
Or
Anything you like;
My
Exit
From
The womb.

 
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