Paper Planes

I'll never know how I found myself here
on my back, picking out cracks on the ceiling
I never asked for this,
to be sprawled, a glassy eyed rag doll
eye stinging as I watched the t.v screen
cast a florescent highlight over the strands of copper hair
dancing in the stream of my shallow breath.
Bees singing in my ears
a deafening hum numbing my panic
Time winding, spiraling,
a manic dancer spotting paper planes.
An artificial high, my serotonin angel
Sanding down the rough edges
turning shadows into monsters
and bleached skin into marble.
I lay there aching
white knuckles clutching a filthy sheet
a stone monstrosity, cradling the humming shards
and bitter remnants
of a childhood now stolen

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