Disorderly Thoughts by ​​Abigail Akyiaw
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             “I am an invisible man...I am a man of substance, of flesh and bone, fiber and liquids—and I might even be said to possess a mind. I am invisible, understand, simply because people refuse to see me.” -Ralph Ellison (Invisible Man)                                                          

3/1/2018 0 Comments

Astrobleme

​Astrobleme (star wound)
Spread thin across the table, the cool air flowing through the air conditioner. My skin wet with sweat and cold chills, former thrills, but none of it feels… right.
After effects.
The quick withdrawal settling in right after the highest peak. Tripping over the edge. I’ve fallen, hitting the ground, so much force rocks my body, no strength left to think, eyes boring into the ceiling, tears slipping out the cracks, face frozen, broken, drained of it.
The body has nothing to elevate it. Chest goes up, chest goes down. Shivers, shakes, trembles, whatever you call it. Lips cracked, split, chapped, bloodied from canines longing for the thing that made the lips smile, the face glow, and the body lively. The thing so attached and crucial. A nutrient, supplement to the body.
I need it. I need it.
I crave it.
I have become it.
Nothing without, nothing within.
Inside of this fog, on top of this cloud, do I see and feel.
Is this bad? Is it detrimental to my mind? A mental so damaged it needs this…it.
Nothing without, nothing within.
I feed on ice and lemons.
Acid biting craters into my gums.
Razors carving caves between teeth.
I befriend loose ends.
Untied, unattached, fringes, swaying in the breeze.
I breathe in a plume of smog, forgotten in this fog, dazed out my mind, searching for a grip I can’t seem to find.
Why? I live in a plastic house suffocating, unventilated, confined to these round corners that come in closer each time I inhale. That’s what I’m running from. This is what I seek:
My freedom in IT.
My escape in IT.
Me in IT. 
The before is chilling, but the aftereffects are deadly. The irritation itching under the folds of my brain, comforted in IT. When it wears off… my mind’s affliction transforms into my body’s shock. The uneven pulse and heartbeats. The ants crawling on goosebumps. The twitch of eyelids, an alert of stress. I just wanted to float. I just wanted to breathe and not get smothered by dry wretchedness. There’s a wound deep within me, growing by the minute.
IT was supposed to heal it.
IT was tasked with fixing it, conjoining the slashed pieces of flesh.
Aftereffects are the worst, but IT is worth it.
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