Midnight on a Coach

everything is white.
I am still breathing –
breathing, but drowning,
drowning in paint I’d melded
with the soundwaves
that worked so goddamn hard
to rescue me.
flashes of blacks and reds,
blues and purples
(for the days I felt okay)
swirling, blending –
imprisonment at its finest,
left me clutching bedsheets
and muttering hail marys.

piercing bright lights blind me.
I clutch my suitcase,
knuckles bone white.

gurgle.
eyes shoot open,
head tips back.
oxygen.

ragdoll tiny and tattered,
muck and rainwater squishing
through holes in my chucks.
deep breath.

lofty and graceful,
floating.
lungs expanding,
waves of white crashing
over my head.

the driver nods;
I begin my ascent
into the belly of the beast.

breaking.

gasping.

air.

and blues and purples,
and pinks and greens,
yellow,
streetlight orange.

cold ankles cross,
cautious,
but free.