I can rationalise,
Empathise,
and process,
with the best of them.
Faster,
than I thought I could.
I type until I can sleep,
still there’s neurons firing,
adrenaline pumping, with nowhere to run to.
As if,
someone,
(owner? father? husband? master?)
Left me,
bleeding and broken.
without a charge.
Or a spark.
For years, a lifetime. I am not sure.
My hearts beats out of my chest,
(I finally understand that saying)
and I watch it fall to the floor,
helpless,
still beating,
in the dust,
the dirt,
forgotten.
And one day,
spring? cleaning,
in the web-covered corner,
in the most,
severed, detached, separated, isolated, disconnected, segregated, secluded, removed, quarantined.
room of the house.
This is not purpose.
I do not believe otherwise now.
How could I.
I’ve had the wool,
violently,
ripped, leaving cuts,
from my eyes.
I did not choose this.
You,
dig me out.
Run electricity through my blood vessels,
(it feels like a death sentence, but I’m probably just being dramatic, maybe my period is due, did I forget a chore? an emotion? a crisis to solve? damn.)
But,
I am no Joan of Arc.
No witches of Salem,
No Boudicca,
Cleopatra,
Medea,
that I need to be to survive.
You, watch
(it makes me sick to think about)
(wow, honesty today – will that continue)
(it depends if there’s lightning next week, I say)
(they look puzzled, they write something down, I am frozen, and can’t see, but can THINK it is torture)
And so,
Just for one night,
you watch,
Me, myself, I.
A broken shell. Husks. Bones. Fossils. CORPSE.
Carcass laid out in the sun.
Still,
you eat.
I fumble to life,
It is too bright, I shield my eyes from the glare and climb.
Overwhelmed,
for your amusement,
exhausted,
until you are satisfied.
Is this it?
I scream.
It echoes.
He smiles.
The lights turn off.
Click.
I start to say ‘But-
before I am silenced.
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