Increase Delete Escape Defeat

He wears his clothes in layers, each attempting to form a protective barrier, impenetrable and reflective. A stark contrast to too absorbent flesh. He stops eating to rid himself of this absorbent quality. Wear more clothes to stop the dreaming. Wear more clothes and less skin to stop the pain.

Ben and Chris, for the first time, don’t understand anything. They can’t. They listen, exchange worried (hurried) glances, wander in and out of his life with increasing frequency. Watching him under the guise of play and fooling no one.

He screams, finding nothing.

***
The bus stop teams with impatient people. They stare down the empty road, straining for a bus not scheduled to arrive for another three and a half minutes. From the distance, alienated from the brief madness, Daniel Johns watches, blue eyes vacant from the lyrics (scraps of meaning) dancing beyond view.

A girl, existing only in his mind’s eye, rides by the stop on a skateboard, dying a messy death from an oncoming car. The family inside the car sings a family camp song (someone’s crying, my Lord, Kumbaya). There is no song for her (here). He feels suddenly afraid. It’s too sunny and the sun will consume him.

***
He screams, the screams doubling back at him, echoing, flowing, changing. The screams too inside for layers. He lies on the floor, feeling naked. Spreading out, head back, palms up, blue eyes fixed on the cracked ceiling. Death would be like this, if he could somehow wait around, conscious after the experience.

(It wouldn’t be so bad)

(Get up get up get up getupgetupgetupwhatthefuckiswrongwithyou)

Distorted eyes, watch unregistering. The flecks on the ceiling dance. This is madness, he thinks (unthinking). Madness is good. In his head, he keeps screaming.

***
Anorexics wear red bracelets because they’re too fucking afraid to slit their wrists.

***
One day, he stops screaming. Lethargic, screaming means (does) nothing.

Chris and Ben don’t come over anymore. Not since he stopped letting them in.

***
Every day would start with a suicide note if there was anything left to say.

The bus brakes squeal, colliding with the bus stop. There is no one left to scream.

***
(You’re not well)

(Everything [everyone] is clearly dying)

(burn my knees I’m praying burn my knees burn my kneesi’mpraying)

If this isn’t over soon, there’ll be nothing left.

***
He laughs and the laugh bounces off the sun. Chris and Ben laugh with him and their laughter is strong where he shakes.

(I’m all better now)

They laugh on stage and the crowd absorbs (steals) their sounds.

(I’m all better now)

(everyone is clearly dying)

The End