My heart is bleeding.

My hands are wet.

My head is buzzing with noise.

A voice yells words, and i hear the echo.

I live in the basement of my brain.

It feels like a cave.

I’ve been knocking and digging for so long.

Screaming for even longer.

No one came to help me,

Or to even let me know i’m really there.

Once, in the awakening of a dream,

An old woman came smiling.

More and more lucid as she came.

Dragging around her broken bones.

She didn’t say a thing.

Not even a whisper.

I, too, said nothing, not by choice.

My hands were tied. 

My mouth was zipped.

My heart was squashed.

She tended my wounds,

My shortcomings.

My helplessness, my uselessness.

Then, she walked away as lucid as she came.

Now, that surely did happen,

I don’t know when.

I don’t know where.

It might have happened to someone else.

But i felt it. I feel it.

I feel like that old woman sometimes.

Attending the wounds of others,

Forgetting my own broken bones.

I feel like i’m the dream i’m dreaming.

Like i’m the age that i pass each passing day.

Visiting the basements of others,

Not ever stepping into my own.

Like one day a finger is gonna snap itself,

Making the right amount of noise.

Wake me from my own sleep.

Just to turn me to the other side.

To fall into the vertigo of sleep.