red is running down his arm, ice cold bucket of water
over his head, pain brings back sanity, the chest is being
He used to be happy They think
He was always a good kid
It’s your fault not mine
separated from reality
glazed eyes blank face,
burst of anger concentration mirrored by a trickling bead tongue curved like a snake tasting
prey what is he doing upstairs
R e v e r b e r a t i n g
black fur gleaming
like a nickel acting as a mirror for the heavens,
home comfort life found in the recess of her neck,
ever so silent
the night preparing to overtake the sun,
undetectable rocking yet it doesn’t lull
staring down over the winding asphalt dragon,
four separated in one,
shelter it provides pain it contains
It falls. I walk to the door. From the door. Sinking through the purity of the untouched, the uncorrupted. It covers all. It covers scars. It covers life. Canyons in my arm sucking in the light, dying me red, staining me brown. Answers evade, moonlight sprinting from the sun. I am looking through glass, it’s wet.
A barbarian pounds the pearl, gates reverberating with the impending escape. My chest is shaking, my body is shaking, my world is shaking. It wells up. I stand up. The world is spinning as my reality twists.
Darkness overcomes luminance. Blank stare, painted mind. Minutes pass by, perhaps hours. I am noting the passage. A fracture appears, space is distorted. I walk back. I lay down. The caress of tranquility. Sand reclaims the ruins. Time holds all. Demons need sleep too.
Sebastian Holmer is a first-year student in the Questrom School of Business. If he's not at class or at the dining hall, you can reliably find him buried under the covers trying to catch up on missed sleep.