a poem by B.Devanandana
art by Sara Hesham
the shadows roll around my ceiling,
and the moths kiss my porch light,
as I watch the screams of my insides,
floating up and hitting the roof,
then breaking like the most fragile glasses;
chuckling to myself,
I scream for someone to tame,
to just tame these vicious waves,
these ferocious waves that won't,
just take me away,
but fill my lungs and leave me to
choke, cough, suffer, repeat.
"No drowning man can know which drop of water his last breath did stop;"
and I wish, I pray, I long to know,
which drop of water would that be;
so that i can go drown earlier in it,
than it is for to happen..
tether these voices and my mind,
let me breathe.