![]() ![]() ![]() “Why won’t you answer me?” He’s too close too close too close. This sheet of paper is my porcelain bowl. “What are you writing?” Cellmate speaks again. I want to smash this concrete world into oblivion. I focus on the transparent square wedged between me and my freedom. “What is it?” His voice is a failed attempt at flatness, an anxious attempt at apathy. 2 shattered windows filling my mouth with glass. It’s not him not him not him not him not him. His lips are only barely parted, his limbs limp at his side, his lashes blinking back confusion. “No.” The word is little more than a broken breath as it escapes my lips and I turn and I shouldn’t but I do and he’s staring at me. “Aren’t you hungry?” His voice is lower now, a little worried now. I’ve been screaming for years and no one has ever heard me. Sometimes I’m so desperate to touch to be touched to feel that I’m almost certain I’m going to fall off a cliff in an alternate universe where no one will ever be able to find me. ![]() Sometimes I think the loneliness inside of me is going to explode through my skin and sometimes I’m not sure if crying or screaming or laughing through the hysteria will solve anything at all. ![]()
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