Aug 16, 2018
Missed calls
They canât feel my anger, I sit in silence waiting for my pounding pulse to subside. The walls have turned black. They mirror my hunger. Iâve eaten once today. My stomach growls but my ears donât listen, they hear only the sound of my grinding teeth. The grinding turns dull. They canât sense my indifference. I think of fighting them with my words but my silence seems to be a more reassuring weapon. The pistol in my nightstand lay idle waiting for my recourse. I ponder tracing its cry through my sorrows or if Iâll have that luxury. I ask myself open ended questions as if I have closing remarks to justify my means to that end. I donât.
