carpal tunnels

Wake up to the morning of

dishes being broken downstairs

Insults get hurled like

molotov cocktails

You know my mind is fragile 

The house is a small place

to keep my headspace

Thoughts often get locked there

For a trauma to unearth 15 years

down the line 

Suitcase packed 

is all it took for ego

to fold over

Lock eyes with strangers

who make light of history 

We are a wretched bunch

Sensation will not return 

Repainted brick walls are not a 

new infrastructure

Intimacy is galvanizing 

but we are in captivity to

past torment 

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9/6/22

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