Lebensraum

My left foot pushes ahead of my right. My right foot pushes ahead of my left. Left, right, left, right. I get the rhythm. This isn't so difficult.

Then tiny ants start nibbling on the soles of my feet, as if my socks have some kind of lice growth. This is aggravated by iron nails growing on the underside of my shoe, it digs into my feet. Bloodless. Excruciating.

Left. Right. Left. Right. I try again.

I can't. Can.

Left. Right. Left. Right. I try again.

I can't. I really can't. Fuck.

I squat on the grey road. My stomach rises and falls. Sick overwhelms me.

Shit.

I vomit. It sprays everywhere. It seeps into the gaps between the pavements. People walk pass. One per cent of my brain is thinking if they're looking at me.

Ninety-nine is overwhelmed with the bile at the end of my throat.

My squatted legs give way. I break into a sit.

I breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

It feels much better, but ants are now crawling everywhere. Everywhere.

Fuck.

I itch. It gets worst. Worst.

The nails are back again. And now its in my head. I grasp my hands around my head. I rub my hair. I'm mad. Mad.

I struggle to get water. Yeah. Water. That'll do me good.

I can't. Now the itch in my hands.

I struggle to get up. I fail.

I lie on my back. I give up. This is too hard.

I breathe. Breathe. Better.


Inspired by Ingrid Michaelson and her song, Keep Breathing. For all the Sec 4s out there. Just hang on.