if my life is a movie
as i walk down the hospital halls
the music should fade
to that weird non-silence,
that deafening, low vibrato
of nothing.

it reverberates through my brain
[even though it doesn’t exist.]

the sun is shining
as it rains
and the puddles splash up
into my boots.

[walk fast, breathe deeply.
maybe if i speed up
i can fall out of time
and just stop existing.]

the cobblestones
want me to roll my ankle.
a homeless man plays the flute
for spare change
but i already gave him some
back when there was light
at the end of my tunnel.

[i buy sushi
since time travel didn’t work.]

text my boss.
text my husband, my friends:

[everything is black,
i am numb,
but don’t worry.
the metros are running
and the rain is intermittent
and i’m only broken.]

my sunglasses
aren’t dark enough
and i walk down the back streets
willing the hot hot tears
to stay in my eyes,
evaporate into my brain.


i am brave,
and i remember how to do this.

go on beta blockers for anxiety,
EKGs for my racing heart [just in case,]
take painkillers
stare at the ceiling
pray for sleep.

work too much
dye my hair.

live with the pain.
it is part of me.

mourn the dead.