saviors.

I…I am not crazy. This is what they tell me. Deep puddles in their eyes and golden flakes of skin chipping off of their finely constructed statues. But… I am crazy. I don’t know what kind of crazy. This is what I tell myself. Because to you I am just another her, just another she, another it. And… and their eyes, they get so big and wide, wounded lambs sacrificial offerings to God. But their fucking eyes and darting tongues. They hold me, pet me, stroke me. Whispers, frantic hushed sentences.
I… I swear I am not crazy. And this is what I tell myself before I am thrown into salty waves, gulping sodium and seaweed, praying for a lifeboat and rescue team … (I am not crazy)…. Until I scream BE MY SALVATION.
Infinite corridors, the red walls hug my skin, seep through my pores, ignite my blood. I feel the flames dancing on my ribcage but I do not falter.
A book falls through the ceiling and lands at my naked feet. I pick it up and stare at the words, etched in gold letters on the cover: HOLY BIBLE. The page I open to Luke Chapter 13, verse 12… woman you are released from your infirmity… ink begins to drip off the page. The pages explode with searing orange flames… an inferno trapped within scripture.
Incoherent screams rip from my vocal chords. Blood tears pour steadily down my cheeks and I am beating the crimson walls wildly wishing to break through the cement.
Voices taunting me, “no one can save you.”

My heart, the size of my fist.
Encased in strings, as he delicately strums a melodic progression of chords: F Major 7.
His clear blue eyes, all I see are his clear blue eyes.
And he strums, A Minor.
All I feel are his silky curls intertwining with my fingers.
The stubble on his chin kisses the cracked surface of my parched lips.
And he strums, G.
The smooth contours of his muscles tense under the pressure of my curious hands.
He plays bitter sweet melodies on my soul strings,
And he strums, D Minor.
Our bodies are mere instruments, performing symphonies only audible to our ears,
Serenading the darkness hidden within.

The last chord resonates within me as cold metal awakens my senses. I am bound to this table of nightmares. Nurse Agnes hovers over me, shadows daunting me from the white plastered walls. I am not here.
“Angelica, hold still. We’re not going to hurt you.”
The starched uniform whispers poison into my ears.
Please go away.