By Rachel Janney

My brain,
my prized possession.
My creativity,
my reason for living…
Gone.

Frantically I search
from East to Quest
and South to Snud;
rubbing my eyes like a sleeping tot.
Awaken you wrinkled blob of gelatinous matter!
Awaken and let me-
let us! Discover the world.

Touch, smell
see, and learn.
Analyze,
criticize.
Notate and annotate
Add quotations:
Fuck! … Citiate.

Read and reread,
scribble and scrap-
wait, what did it say?
Read…reread
write- erase
edit, rephrase
What did they say again?
Reread…
Reread…

Spinning,
we’re spinning.
We’re spinning and spinning and spinning
and spinning and spinning and spinning
and spinning and spinning
bashing and crashing my palms to my head
autistically mimicking words with silent lips.

The lights!
They flash.
A moment
here!
Then they’re gone.

Tumbling like a loose lipped drunk
out in the sidewalk ends.
Slipping away.
We’re spinning again
Spiraling down.
Slouched on the floor
My palms up like a chimp,
and shoulders slumped.
I weep.

Tank-sized tears
smear treadmarks down my skin.
A harrowing shrill explodes from my lungs,
Bombarding the silence of these plastered walls.
and I,
it’s shell,
lay cracked and hollow.

One by land,
two by sea.
Light a candle
and pray for me.
As I hold the fort
in this battle
of wits.

It’s catastrophic,
psychologic.
It’s been prescribed
and I can’t deny
that the wonder drug I’ve so long need
is the very thing that’s killing me.

* * * *

Like carpet-bomb brigade:
I cover my ears
though it is from my lips these missiles fall..

I tremble in an aftershock.
my tongue is dry
and throat is tender.

* * * *

I missed lecture
Get up. I cringe.
I missed rush hour.
Get up! What’s the point?
My next class starts in thirty…
Get up! Twenty nine….
Pushup with rusted hinges,
Now go. Battered and ragged
I brush my teeth and grab my keys.
Twenty five…

Traffic,
traffic
why the hell is there traffic?
Ten…nine…
This light.
From yellow, red to green.
six…five…four
Round and round the corners we go,
searching for an empty slot
Three…two
I cut him off.
Sorry.
RUN!

Grab my bag and flee.
Burst through the doors and bound down the stairs.
I’m gasping for air and white as a ghost.
11:02
I fall into my seat.
Yes!

Lecture starts.
Halfway through!
My eyes grow heavy.
No! Stay awake!

I’m spinning again
Fight it!
My mind grows numb.
Professor?
His lips move, yet I cannot hear.

* * * *

A doll with bulging eyes
that cast a moon-like shadow.

A toy soldier
with key un-wind-ing
slow-ly

* * * *

Spinning
again
I’m spinning again.
Sloshing in the current of charcoal tides
I drown in the sound of static waves
of a silenced brain.

 

Rachel Janney is a biology major, part time baker, hopeful writer, and a full time dreamer hoping that one day she will actually be able to touch the stars.

Photo by Natalie Mulin.