Bending time as if I’m a God.
I can see time coming at me in slow motion.
A wave of bullets shooting towards me.
‘I love you.’
‘You don’t love me.’
‘My parents aren’t proud of me.’
Bullets that can pierce my skin and poison my insides with the crushing reality of truth.
I have a problem of believing in the impossible.
Dreaming while I’m awake.
Not being able to fall asleep even though my mind is exhausted.
I’m too busy opening and closing cabinet doors,
Searching for an answer plausible enough to describe why I’m tripping by myself.
In an apartment full of empty bodies whose names I can barely remember.
The oven is on, but no one’s home.
There’s a thing about burning.
If the oven explodes, would that be so bad?
I’m having a heart attack.
Or maybe I’m dying of a broken heart?
Tis pity I’m a Whore.
Sinking into the couch.
I could lie here forever.
When that oven explodes, I very well might.
The empty bodies all close the doors to their bedrooms.
And I’m here. Alone. Sunk into the couch.
I don’t want to lie here forever.
I’m not an Airbender.
I can’t bend time.
But at least, I turned off the oven.