And when I am afraid and no one will listen because there aren’t even words in my mouth, I go to bed and pull the comforter over my head and I force myself not to make a sound. The exploding bomb in my mouth wants to make noise but I don’t let a single note from it to escape the confines of my being.
I know my name. I am strong.
The smoke billows two ways; one goes up and fills my skull while the other descends and swarms my chest. I dislocate my heart – perhaps I even miss it. Perhaps it is burning and fragments of it are now scattered in the nerves inside my chest. My body is confused and it cannot decide whether to use the air inside me to suppress my rage or to escape my trembling soul.