The Present

        I'm cooking and cleaning, I'm dusting my apron. I'm draining pots over the sink as the steam air breezes through the window. I'm washing my watery hands onto my waist as the doorbell rings. My small world and everything I have built solo has come crashing down. Fear breathes inside of my eyes. There have been suspicions about my behavior, I have now been kept underneath surveillance; I have been cuffed into custody, there was word that I was spotted next to house found with three men murdered, the night of the crime scene. My eyes water with fear, my mind has traveled close and far. I have become scarcity blank. Anger rises inside of my throat. I must gulp the rage back down to the pit of my stomach that taste like acid. I throw myself in panics that pop my bulging veins, I spin inside of circles. I pull my hair from my scalp. I scream my body into panicked fits. I am lost inside a world of confusion. I look towards the window reflection, and I do not know who I am. I have black long hair, a round face, blue green eyes, and I feel lost within my own reflection. I do not know what I have done while I have not been entirely myself. I am held into custody for things I might have done, and it pains my head too badly to reverse, rewind, and remember. 

            I sat here in the car, crying although I do not remember why. I used to love but now I cannot recognize his face. Strange feelings have taken over me now and I am so lost. I try to trace back my thoughts inside the moment, I try to remember the things that happened before they did. Half of this stuff I am so confused about, so many twists and turns and round abouts, I am lost without a map or a phone number to call. Get me out of here I wish to scream but I don't know how to ask. This all started last December, or was it in the fall? My food has become so tasteless. My energy has become so dull. I toss in the spices, but I have my lost my touch when I stir the pot. I wish I could tell you how this feels but you would never understand it, because you have never stood on the opposite side of yourself. 

      Most nights I bruise my knees and decorate the tiled floor with tears and snot. My chest feels completely hollow, I am unsure where to go from here. Is there a mirror that ripples that I could walk through? I'm pounding the tiled floor wishing I could just fall through. I search for help, but they all think I'm crazy. I am lost inside of my own living hell. I am puzzled in ways that I see love, but I never feel it. I have searched the earth to feel whole once again, my eye bags stay puffy, and I keep this pounding headache.

    I've ran to the doctor, and I have told her I'm heartbroken and it fucking burns as I'm crouched over the table, but she still does not understand. No one gets this, no one fucking hears me. Do I even hear myself? I'm screaming while I pounce the floor with the loose cotton leg. I scream so loud my lungs squeeze. I scream so loud I've become hoarse. I scream so loud hoping someone would just listen to me but I'm not making any sense. I've lost time there desperately needing me to make up for what I cannot gain back. I've lost something, I can't explain it but it fucking hurts. Don't you get it? 

    I'm looking for the lost thing that fell in the middle of the night, it has fallen in the ground, I watched the earth spin, and I saw the portal, I walked inside of it. I'm screaming till bald spots appear on my head as I pull my lose strands of wild hair. My voice is growing louder, "you're not listening!" I bang the medal tables, I kick the walls, and I don't care if I broke something. My hands search the brick for a hidden room, a hidden door, a hidden book, something! My hands are tracing my chest, I can't breathe. I'm pacing back and forth; I've lost something and this fucking hurts. I'm screaming till sun rise, I feel like a child just left in sadness until I'm finished with my pout. 

-Micah Vincent