The Elephant In The Room

The tiny man that lives in my chest is breathing louder.
Longer.
His lungs swell and ribcage expands and with each breath instead of retreating his body continues to grow. He sits curled, his spine arched and face unseen and with every inhale I feel my bones creak. You stand above me, watching me from the ceiling. Glaring and spinning as the room spins with you, one eye is fire, the other a ticking clock.

The clock strikes one.

You scream at me with a mouth invisible. From screens taped to my hands, pasted on every desk and available wall space you scream at me. Miles away, you remain in my view and in my head. Frightened by your screams the man in my chest breathes heavier and heavier.
I watch my skin stretch and distort. Like bubble gum on the pavement, like cling film torn on a serrated edge, my skin is changing. The colour becomes pale in the spots that are thinnest and scars once thick and healed become pink and splitting. I am breaking.

The clock strikes two.

You are everybody that isn’t me. Everybody that hates me. You are the news in my feed, the looks on the train, the scorned lover that believes me dirt. You are strong and I am weak. The man in my chest cannot withstand your war and my flesh and blood cannot contain him.
In my body the second room that is the housing that holds my heart and lungs aches. Walls are cracking and foundations below are receding. I want to open the door. I need space so the man can expand without hindrance but the key I have been given does not fit the lock. The man does not heed the cries of my insides as they are crushed.

The clock strikes three.

My stomach bursts as the man breathes in once more. I want to stop him. I need to stop him. With every message and hint of you the man breathes in and I am terrified he will not stop. Please stop screaming at me. I can be better. I can be good. But I need you to stop. I want this to stop and you want this and maybe you want him.
When he emerges maybe I will be replaced. As he stands in my stomach, my body twisted and broken underneath him like the shell of an egg, maybe he will step forward and become me. Be the me you always wanted and maybe finally I will be better.

I want it to be over.

The clock strikes four.

Na(I)ls

IMG_8429
Adelaide, Australia. 2018.

My fingernails won’t stop growing won’t stop growing
my fingernails
won’t
stop

growing forward
and backward

inside my skin.
They
won’t
stop.

My fingernails
they’re under my skin
down through my elbows and into my chest
my fingernails wrap around my ribs

dying vines

pushing through my lungs
stop
growing
I don’t know how to stop
them
growing.

I keep writing the same things
and nothing is changing.
Nothing is stopping me grow
inwardly
under my skin.

My fingernails are turning me inside out
and I let them.

(who)le

IMG_0019
Adelaide, Australia. 2018.

There’s a hole in my head and everyone is looking at it. Looking through it from one side of my mind to the other.
The hole is growing. Stretching. Across my forehead meeting tear duct
nostril
then mouth.

Everyone is looking at me.

The hole in my head spreads down my body to the floor. I consume the room.
I consume my friends
the music we listen to
the roof above our eyes
the night sky

falls in.

No one is looking at me anymore.

over and over and

this place is not mine
this place where my mind
is kept
it pushes me through the walls and windows of other places
where minds are kept
over and over
I do the same thing again
over and over
I do the same thing again

I open doors and run inside
houses that aren’t mine
I break plates
kick holes in walls
and run out again

this neighbourhood is full of holes

face up against bitumen
and a car is heading my way
I see feet against gravel
a crowd watching me
I can hear them chanting
chanting

if I want to be saved
I only have to say
if I want to be okay
I only have to say

‘help me’

nothing ties me to the floor
the sun is hot
I am not stuck
I just need to see
see if maybe
this place is destroyed
this place that isn’t mine
where my mind
is
I can find something else that is

and maybe I can stop
doing the same thing

over and over
over and over

you crouch down next to me
stroke a hair back across my ear and say
that’s not how this works

I shut my eyes
tyres roar
over and over