covering my face, holding my eyes really tight
i keep putting my hands to my forehead like somehow that’s going to blanket a soul freezing.
too sensitive. just breathe.
i remember so vividly,
ill forget what i want to say two words from now, but i remember in flashing color and dank smells.
i remember like it just happened.
everything, every move playing slowly to maximize the effect or affect, like i care which one.
its slow and its torture.
there’s a color of blue i can’t place and the color of wet carpet so molded over its patched with mushrooms growing in some weird reality i ignored.
i ignored maggots.
i ignored the smell of dead mice. the smell of urine no longer registered.
it didn’t matter.
i first tried to kill myself in the 4th grade i think. i think it was then. i don’t remember why.
i hate the color yellow. i hope she was buried in a bright yellow dress with ugly mushrooms on it
and teeth marks where the hem should be.
i hope they buried you in yellow with a mirror in front of your face so the maggots can see their last meal.
let the mirror show a reality i can accept.