Escape

Swallowing over and over again,
I touch my cold fingertips
to the back of my sweaty neck.

How did I get here?
         When did I get here?

My body heat continues to rise,
I'm stuck standing in the gates of hell.
Black ravens are fighting,
fluttering their wings
inside my very soul.

I collapse onto the dry,
cracked, thirsty ground.
It reflects the state
of my fractured mind.

I touch my face, my lips,
eyes, nose, and mouth.
Are they as damaged
as the ground;
         as my mind?

I get up and run—
I must escape this land,
         escape myself.

22 lines
103 Words