This must be a nightmare. It couldn’t be a dream. I’m washing in the shower, my limbs clean, until they bleed. I sometimes miss the quiet; the chaos of the streets. I keep it all inside my mind and every night I scream. I can’t remember what it’s like to smell the ocean. I can’t remember what it’s like to feel the sea. I can’t remember what it’s like to face a mirror and not hate the person staring back at me. I wish that I were dead or at least somewhere else. I try to keep the riot quiet like a diet for my health.
