Here and Now

Scream Outside my window the white sky is marbled  with veins of charcoal A winter sky in April From far away whispered thoughts drift over the stillness of my body Startled by the sound of my name being called I listen intently holding my breath until I finally realize it is my own voice calling Clamping my mouth tightly closed I breathe purposefully through my nose in 2,3,4 out 2,3,4,5 until the urge to scream disappears Droplets of rain occasionally tap the window as the lyrics to a song by The Clash plays in my head on repeat... "Should I stay or should I go Should I stay or should I go now?" The rhythm is more upbeat than I feel I feel  nothing but still the question without a clear answer So I wait... continuing to breathe in 2,3,4,5 out, 2,3,4,5,6,7 I reach for my phone find your number wait for the...

Purgatory When I was a child  I would play the "breath holding" game with myself It wasn't the kind of  "breath holding to gain attention from parents" game It was simply a challenge How long could I deprive myself of air?   life? The strangest thing is that the longer you hold your breath the more alive you feel The heart beats even louder and more ferociously The body warms and trembles to stay alive until eventually the mouth flies open like an ugly, gasping Piranah an exhale that feels like failure worn like shame... As I grew up breath holding evolved into food withholding It was simply a challenge How long could I deprive myself of food? Long enough for my heart to beat erratically for my muscles to cramp  and to shiver all day even in the summer Feeling alive ... this slow act of suicide How long could I press my fingers into my flesh ...

Tiny Package I remember this beautiful containment a neat and tiny package buzzing numbness almost like being alive almost... I'm tired of my own voice messy and overflowing spilling like sticky blood  never to be washed away closing my eyes I reach my stained hands toward you but I still see her too much to hold too much to love I remember this beautiful containment...  Angela Minard 2016©