It’s so loud it knocks you off your feet. It throws you to the wall. It knocks you unconscious. You won’t forget. You’ll be feeling it always. But when you wake you forget where it all even started.
You never stop tasting blood. You never stop feeling the impact. You never stop trying to get rid of it. Rinsing your mouth time and time again. It’ll leave. They promise you with tears in their eyes as they punch you again. But no. It was just a touch. It was comforting. It wakes you up again. Only to go out again.
I never stop needing it. The fresh air. The way the lights look when you’re leaving home. Going towards home. The ice between your teeth, laughter from your throat instead of sobs. Making you forget the pressure on your lungs. If only for that moment.
You start escaping in other ways. You leave me here and I know you have to go. You reach outside of yourself, looking for something you alone don’t possess. The smoke of it all comes from you and I know you’re burning it all out and this is the only way. You close your eyes and play those songs. The ones that help you roll back into oblivion. The little bit of bliss I see you feel. You carry it all. And for those moments I see you put it down.
Aren’t your arms tired, girl? They never stop pulling on the rope tied to the top, feet digging into the mountainside, cursing the ground for you’re never returning. But you’re falling. You see. The top can’t be reached, all that happens is falling. Everything above is breaking. Scattering onto earth in too many places to ever find them to put them back together.
Your head in your hands. Remembering when you first did this. When you first were introduced to the garden side of the ruins. It’s lovely here. Nothing hurts here. Everything is beautiful here. What wasn’t becomes and what hasn’t is. It holds your hands up to its face, it lets you feel a warmth that isn’t just your own.
They sing you the Bible songs. But you don’t hear them anymore. These verses. Where are they? Where were they when the birds decided to stop flying overhead. When the plants grew sideways and everything refused to breathe because the oxygen stopped being clear. It lied about it’s intention to hold life. It turned against all that lived because of it, everyone’s heads spinning into falls that they never came back from.
I turned to drinking the fumes. From everything burning up. Because for some reason I was never just here for air. The other elements have kept me here. But don’t they know? I can’t exist without everything. I don’t want to. The music doesn’t sound the same. The hands shaking me from my coma don’t make me want to come back.
My eyes don’t want to look at this anymore. It’s a joke. The audience laughs at the sadness. How’d they get here? Ridiculous, stupid decaying lives. The way they’d clap their hands and slap their knees. I feel it. Why I can’t say the truth. No one takes it in the serious way it’s said.
They’d fall too.