• Vol. 01
  • Chapter 10


I’ve been lying here for three weeks,
being tapped and drained, but I dare not
look into the mirror. What will I see, the
horror of my silence? I’ve washed and
brushed and scrubbed but I cannot be
cleaned. Why do lies hold so tightly to
my skin? Why is fear lodged like shrapnel
so deeply into my flesh? The rush of
water mutes my thunderous heartbeat
that pounds like bombs blasting upon
boisterous boys running with a ball
on a beach. Tears fall like missiles into
grey classrooms and tiny cold homes.
But I must lie, lie on this cold floor, lie
to my god; and perhaps seek to escape
this blue hell with mirrors and conscience
and endless guilt, in search of salvation.
                        Hey, I see an open door.