‹ Prequel: In the Month of May
One-Hundred Days
Day Thirteen: Insanity
We are insanity, with our fingers gouging scars into these towering walls around us. We are the numbed minds, desensitized by murders playing out on every television screen we see. We are the human race, personified into two mere beings.
I stare at your wide eyes, burning and leaking at the edges from the brightness of these white walls around us. Your fingernails are broken off at the tips, bleeding and scarring our surroundings with flashes of red. I stare at this zombie of a human being I once loved.
I crawl into a corner, knees huddled against my chest as the walls close in on us. They are breathing like our lungs once did, so desperate for air free of pollution and dust of the earth's old age. Now we only long for air to breathe. The walls take every ounce of oxygen out of our shriveled lungs and we are left gasping for breath. I crawl into a corner perfectly still, breathing shallow breaths, while you writhe against the walls, red dripping from every pore of your beaten body. You have no time for carefully consuming what little oxygen remains, you are just desperate for anything and anyone.
I can see the familiar shine come across your eyes when I lay a hand on your skin. I can feel your muscles tense beneath the cut skin, soft and bruised. I pull you away from the walls that are closing in, into the center of the box we are locked inside of. You rest against, stunned into silence by mere human contact. They have kept me away from you all this time, my love.
Love, you said, is insanity. To trust a person so much that you lay your heart in their hands, still fully alive and beating, and hope that they will not clench their fist around it. You said that love is the proof that we are no different from those of our kind locked inside cages of steel, that we have not evolved as much as we like to think we have from our first ancestors. You said that we are insane, you and I, but without those jackets hugging our limbs to our bodies, or those breathing walls threatening to close us in. You said that you were insane, because you loved me, but it was worth the idea that you were no better than your caged father, to feel the way you do about me.
They have kept me away from this insanity for years, until now. They threw me into the deep pool of white you have been drowning in. I faked your insanity myself, and begged and screamed until my lungs were raw and in my throat so that I could be put next to you.
Your writhing form is calm against my own, calmed by the insanity that is above all the rest.
Insanity can be fractured into a million pieces by love, the insanity that kept you sane all along.
Love, you said, is insanity.
I stare at your wide eyes, burning and leaking at the edges from the brightness of these white walls around us. Your fingernails are broken off at the tips, bleeding and scarring our surroundings with flashes of red. I stare at this zombie of a human being I once loved.
I crawl into a corner, knees huddled against my chest as the walls close in on us. They are breathing like our lungs once did, so desperate for air free of pollution and dust of the earth's old age. Now we only long for air to breathe. The walls take every ounce of oxygen out of our shriveled lungs and we are left gasping for breath. I crawl into a corner perfectly still, breathing shallow breaths, while you writhe against the walls, red dripping from every pore of your beaten body. You have no time for carefully consuming what little oxygen remains, you are just desperate for anything and anyone.
I can see the familiar shine come across your eyes when I lay a hand on your skin. I can feel your muscles tense beneath the cut skin, soft and bruised. I pull you away from the walls that are closing in, into the center of the box we are locked inside of. You rest against, stunned into silence by mere human contact. They have kept me away from you all this time, my love.
Love, you said, is insanity. To trust a person so much that you lay your heart in their hands, still fully alive and beating, and hope that they will not clench their fist around it. You said that love is the proof that we are no different from those of our kind locked inside cages of steel, that we have not evolved as much as we like to think we have from our first ancestors. You said that we are insane, you and I, but without those jackets hugging our limbs to our bodies, or those breathing walls threatening to close us in. You said that you were insane, because you loved me, but it was worth the idea that you were no better than your caged father, to feel the way you do about me.
They have kept me away from this insanity for years, until now. They threw me into the deep pool of white you have been drowning in. I faked your insanity myself, and begged and screamed until my lungs were raw and in my throat so that I could be put next to you.
Your writhing form is calm against my own, calmed by the insanity that is above all the rest.
Insanity can be fractured into a million pieces by love, the insanity that kept you sane all along.
Love, you said, is insanity.