I’m crashing through doors that I wish would stay shut. Biting my fingernails until they bleed and bleed and bleed. Cut the pressure from these bones and I’ll rise like how my lungs expand in each breath. This air isn’t mine. I can believe it’s there without seeing it- let it feed me and keep me hollow. Running through the blank spaces of my mind until I can stop and catch my fucking breath. How come everyone pulls at my ties until I can’t catch my fucking breath. I mean, no one is going to save me, but they can at least give me a moment to collect the trauma and catch my fucking breath. Now I’m stumbling and tripping and screaming in a mirror. Begging myself to handle the pressure because I’m already boiling and if I evaporate than everyone else will combust. We can’t lock the doors without knowing what’s behind them. We can’t close the curtains without the ending of a scene. We can’t take the medicine without knowing the sickness. I’m too tired to care, and too caring to be tired. I’m falling in and out of reverse and it’s too hard to be human: I take my palms and sink into the soil. I beg to be as gentle as the plants around me- but it never sticks. This air isn’t mine. Cut the pressure from these bones and I’ll rise like how my lungs expand in each breath. Biting my fingernails until they bleed and bleed and bleed. I’m crashing through doors that I wish would stay shut. -AMT