I am sick. Not with cancer, AIDS, zika, or ebola

All the same, I am consumed by the blackest of ailments


Terror stricken by the darkest of thoughts with no hope of respite.

I want to reach out and be touched. I want to be found. I want to be known I am desperate.

But I am so petrified.

Frozen in time like a crooked and gnarled piece of driftwood.


I drift between waves of smiles and laughter.

Alongside the friendliest of faces that haunt my dreams.

I can’t join them, they’re laughing at me.

Aren’t they? They’re looking at me.

Aren’t they?

Please stop seeing me.

Stop seeing my skin.

Stop seeing my secrets.

They’re mine to hold

Never yours to unfold

To manipulate and dissect these stories that I never told.

Let me disappear into the empty spaces between your smiling faces.

Slip between the cracks of the foundation where I can reside unnoticed.

Let me sit in my corner observing your connections

While I reflect on why my brain won’t make the connection between my heart and mouth.