Brushing insanity feels
just like touching the
Hot stove, watching my
skin bubble,
Only it burns not
outside but in.
Am I losing it? Yes,
no… already lost?
I have no answer and
that is what
Scares me the most.
Is it that easy to fall
apart,
Tear the seam and let
go?
Yes and yes.
The solid ground is
still there,
But the breeze wafts
through a fissure,
Too small to see.
Suddenly I’m falling
Out of darkness and
into a light
That’s hot like fear.
Utterly helpless, I
watch
The candle gutter,
once, twice,
Before extinguishing
without a sound.
By Alissa Tsaparikos
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