Nausea

on the floor, at the great divide

with my shirt tucked in, and my shoes untied

i am crying in the bathroom

Have you ever had an injury, one that has the capability to hinder your performance in all ways? And you do nothing but dream of days when said ailment ceased to exist? Over and over again, scenarios are screeching by. Saying what could have or should have changed, how the itching, pulling, tearing, torture of your muscles is a constant reality in your nervous system. Denial, acceptance, cover-up; they will not alter the reality, they will merely form a 'new normal.' An adjustment to a prerogative, regardless of what could have or should have been done. And that is the way injury sinks in.

I sat at your knees today, crying into the hardness of your jeans. We locked the doors, and increased the volume knob on the radio to drown out the sobs. From there I went searching for safety. And a safe island, that it was. A haven for the torn, the shredded, the hollow. I rested there, with my face pressed into the plush forgiveness of the pillow. All around me were entangling alliances, entangled limbs. Bearing dead weight down upon me, sinking pressure into my shell of a body. Or maybe it was just that weight of the air, so filled with emotions. I wanted to push it all off with every bit of strength I possessed. I wanted to fight back; as if I wasn't helpless. With my attempts, I came faced with the fact that I had none. My strength was disappearing, I was withering into a fading abyss of naivety. My stomach was empty but my heart was filled to the brim, overflowing with emotions whose existence I was unaware of. My arms felt numb. The blood had halted its flow, turning my clenched fists into something of the past. As we were driving from the red house, the one beside the red barn, I clenched your hand. We formed a fist, and found remnants of the broken strength. A deep breathe and a reluctant heart beat, we were on our way to the dangers, loneliness, stark bare 'real world'. The world where you need a defense to even fight your own body. That body who has suddenly turned against you in a whirlwind of sickness. Strength from the support of your clench, from the forgiveness of your pillow, from the overflow of my heart. Strength to discover that new normal. I hope you feel this strength.

and the cardinal hits the window.