Ink On The Skin

The kids burst through the door Dropping their bags Shouts of Mom! Mom! "Look at my robot! It's so cool with its egg carton legs and tape holding it together." I could use some tape myself, To hold this aching head in place. "Mom, I need to tell you, this boy called me a bitch on the bus today." But you're only nine. Why does it start so soon? "Mom what's for dinner?" Dinner... I don't know Everything aches down to my bones; My fingertips scream at me, I'm craving someplace quiet Their laughter spills around me Like musical wind chimes But also like an overwhelming flood Its raining today and cold Cold like my prayers, Too many clouds, maybe They bounce my thoughts Back into my head. My insides are a dark hole, Pulling me inward as if I'll fold into myself. "Hey mom, I love you. Can I give you a hug?" 

One. Two. Three. One. Tw- I didn’t do it right. Breath. Breath. Breath. Why can’t I get it right? One. Two. Three. One. Two. Three. There’s a live wire in my head, buzzing, buzzing like flies. I can’t turn it off! My nerves are raw- Raw meat, meat, meat. I’m washing my hands too much. Skin is peeling, bleeding drip, drip, drip. Never clean enough. Just shut up. SHUT UP! SHUT UP! Stepped on a crack- I should call my mother.  What if she's hurt? What if she dies? What if it's my fault? One. Two. Three. One. Two. Three. Knocking, knocking I don’t want to open. I really am the worst. The worst daughter. The worst person. Tap. Tap. Tap. The voice in my head- machine guns drilling. I need, I need… What do I need? Silence, probably, or a reset button? Can I start over? One. Two. Three. That bird is so beautiful, so… peaceful. No rules. No counting. No checking. No soap and blood. I wish I could fly, fly away from my brain. But, I’d probably suck at flying. Still, I might try. Even if ...