Fragmented images dance mockingly, wildly, before my frightened eyes. Twisted metal, shattered glass, fractured bone.
Warming viscous crimson liquid seeping from every pore, creating rivers. Muffled shrieks fill the stagnant air. Darkness.
Blinding white tones overwhelm my hazy vision. Crisp corners sterilize a foreign room. Irritating scents of antiseptics
waft through the unventilated corridors. My senses recoil in disgust. Methodical, shrill pulses torture my ears, strangling
the serenity of a world produced by my imagination. Agony pounds through my otherwise lifeless body. The attempted formations
of simple sounds invokes burning tears. My mind screams deafeningly. I cannot.
Learning to communicate again is the most difficult task I have undertaken. A language playing detrimental games with
my soul. I gradually began to speak in a signed language; though my withdrawn, frail self spoke louder than hand gesture or
uttered sound. Music continues to be my true dialect but Im constantly frustrated by my inability to express myself as others
understand. Speech was my identity, my spirit, my life-force. Presently I am a toddler; languageless and stuttering disjointed,
unstructured sentences. My nervous fingers were unaccustomed to the eloquent gestures of a silent language.
I despise my current self, wishing more intensely each day I could leave my scarred vessel, in search of relief. Everything
I had aspired to be had vanished, dreams slaughtered and strewn on the cold concrete. What am I to become? My attempts
at communication are greeted by hostile, fearful glares. Understanding lacked by those who are supposed to care, support,
cherish.
Gently mapping the contours of her creamy neck she inspired salty droplets of anguish and torment. Delicate peach lips
faintly construct unspoken words on the weightless breeze. A language not spoken, cumbersome. Melodic vocalisations stolen,
never to be returned.
Time does not heal all wounds. As the ticking black hands crawled through time, I found my mind relishing the images
of my decomposing flesh. I no longer desired re-education, but rather the satisfying caress of crimson life. Fits of untainted
rage transformed into the violent abuse of my weakened skin. Pleasure and relief instantly fulfilled in an act of torture.
I concentrated every strained droplet of energy into my school work. My passion pooled with ink on the paper, entertaining
my imagination with narrative upon narrative of torment and mistrust. Shadowed attempts of communication appreciated by those
few who were privileged enough to read it.
Passion and emotion that I once lacked in my musical compositions became policy. Meaningful notations scattered on
the lined page. Bitter strains of string instruments complemented by the fortissimo, pounding bass patterns of the piano.
Vivid tempos and tantalising crescendos rushed electrically from my fingers. Narrow talons strangling the plastic clutched
within them. My energy crashed synchronously with the climax of my micro-symphony. Rubbing my reddened eyes, I began to escape
reality; descending into a surreal landscape. My mind begged for release.
Churning winds beckon dancing giants, reflected upon an undulating canvas. Vanishing spirits representing her dreams.
Depressing stenches of decay adhere to the parched air. Fine wisps of sienna hair sway to the breeze. Sheer drapes of white
cloud begin to cloak the shimmering sky.
Where do I go from here? My identity snatched violently from me. Isolated. Courage discarded with the wreak. Temptation
brewing with heightening frustration. Nothing in my world is sacred! Tossed aside by friends, abandoned by love and passion.
The square block jammed in a circular hole. What do I do? False sympathy gnawing at my mind burrows deep into my subconscious.
I desire to rest eternally. But I am unable to. I watched as an ominous stone wall formed around me, alienating me not only
from the horrors of reality, but also the compassion of others. Thoughts crept slowly through my uncertain mind. How do I
continue to live a life I know to be false, a simulation reliant on the insensitivity of ignorance?
Habitually picking at my cuticles, I tear ravenously at my soft flesh. I briefly caress the contours of a knife handle
with my solemn gaze. Nerves excite the tips of my fingers as I sense the presence of the blackened plastic slipped cosily
in my strangled grip. Unable to resist, I draw my feeble body dangerously close to it, determined to re-establish healing
scars. The calming abyss of the handle fulfilled each imagined sensation. Confidently gliding the blade across my patched
skin. I cried in delight as warm blood tickled my skin. Each movement becoming increasingly violent.
Blinding white tones overwhelm my hazy vision. Crisp corners sterilize a foreign room. Irritating scents of antiseptics
waft through the unventilated corridors. My senses recoil in disgust. A scene now familiar to me. Physically unable to continue
my self abuse. No less frustrated by my inability to communicate.
Charcoal based formations shroud the shimmering sky. Shrill cries of lament echo through the eerie giants, distorted
and disfigured on the jagged canvas. Heavy air carries putrid wafts of decomposition. A chill tickles the spine.
Padding footsteps trace across an overly hygienic floor. I continue through the familiar corridors, barely able to
see. I silently sing, shaping each refined syllable. I move nothing but the faint tingle of air across my cracked, pale lips.
Dont want to be lost anymore
I find myself at the
door
But Im too scared to
go
Been in this life for
too long
I wanna see the sun
Inside my mind.
Miniscule pieces of gravel prick at the worn skin of my
feet. I slowly carry myself toward the ledge. Paper flutters effortlessly in the growing breeze. Floating freely, the words
follow my descent.
I havent felt the way I feel today
In so long its hard
for me to specify.
Im beginning to notice
how much this feels
Like a waking limbpins
and needles
Nice to know you,
Goodbye!2
