two days, forty-eight hours, 2,880 minutes

I sleep inside
a water-drenched kaleidoscope
it’s gotta get dark sometimes
in between the ocean tides
and waves crashing
through the shifting walls

Time breaks me down
and scatters my ashes through
the shifting sands of his-story,
her-story, my-story
I might be a diamond
somewhere the weight of the world
crushed the carbon of my breath
into something beautiful

Hope is a precious thing to lose
as weightless as airborne chemistry
percolating in my lungs
and as easily dispelled
as the last breath of a soul
reaching for the afterlife

Two days
forty-eight hours
2,880 minutes
172,800 seconds

I forget how to breathe
my body misfiring my insides
until I resemble the blood and bone mess
my skin normally hides in its decaying glory

I find new ways to ache
new ways to bleed
new ways to cry the chemical weight
of an atomic bomb out through my pores

I petrify in a desert-baked stillness
if I don’t move perhaps the I can stem
the tide of the oncoming flash flood
that’s yet to be screamed into existence

Two days
forty-eight hours
2,880 minutes
172,800 seconds
I’m not here

© Indie Adams 2015