the summer air drowns my flesh quilted body.
i lay here,
surrounded by darkness and silence,
silence except for the dull, flat note continuously played by the rickety air conditioning.
what is this pain?
oh, but i am used to it.
a sharp breath,
a twitching finger.
tedious.
my mother,
my father,
i hate you.
my friends,
my family,
i love you.
my brother,
i'm sorry.
the many times i gave in,
the many times i said nothing,
i was afraid.
angry.
i'm sorry.
another sharp breath.
the twitching of a lifeless finger.
the summer air no longer affects my cold, still body.
i lay here, unaware of the surrounding darkness and silence,
silence except for the loud, beeping note continuously played by the rickety air conditioning.
the air conditioning that matches and beats in time with one thing only.
my heart.
