Thin air crystalizes into glass
As I bang my fist against it
over and over again. A reality
born from nothing. A big bang of my
thoughts and emotions
Shattered glass cuts my fist.
Blood seeps through my cinnamon
fingers. Not a tear. There is no pain. Just
the scream stuck in my throat. What escapes
is a fake breath.
A glimpse of myself through the 96's windows
No blood is visible. No thoughts translated into
objects. No shattered glass
against my fist.
Only the lines on my forehead and my sad smile.
28 May 2014