Sinking

I am scared of my mind.

It's like you switch on the kitchen lights
In the middle of the night
Standing in your pyjamas, blinking and thirsty
And the whole place is full of bugs
Tiny black fast
Swarming out of the oven, floating dead in the sink
You stamp your feet with frustration
Dead noise of rubber on floor
You grab the cold milk from the fridge
And you glance at your left arm
Your shoulder is nothing but a bone disfigured under your cold fingertips
You cry out and run around the flat
Young again, shouting
"Mother, I'm going to die"
"It's not even you're right arm" she says, turning away
"You'll be alright."
Next morning you wake up
Not a single bug anywhere
Just a swollen nerve at the edge of your right palm
And a right arm that feels broken
Like a shutter that broke in the wind
I have nowhere to go and nothing to leave