Did I tell you about the shady business down the hall? Garbage bins line the walls overflowing pizza crust and piss-yellow Mountain Dew.
your words are a plague- you spread
as you speak
My hair is purple and covers one eye so that the Gibson full of mites isn’t a sham. “You look just like your mother when you were that age! But you have your father’s nose.” I wish that wasn’t true. The blob on the bridge makes me look like a harpy.
Moro reflexes tested when
you touch my open palm.
Do you remember?
An inflexible anchor
that hide his eyes while
My hands are numb. All I can feel is a tingling sensation in my hands.
I wonder if they care.
Breathe. I can’t breathe. Like a heart attack. Weight on my chest that is so constricting. Maybe if I count in my head it will distract me.