heaving,
screams, and so much hatred
felt as if my soul was being drained from me
and what remained was very little
of what was there before

what was left?
anger
was that all?

they held me
me, screaming
soft murmurs
screaming

those sounds are coming from me
are those sounds really coming from me?

like an animal's wail
grief in every sharp intake of breath
the sounds of suffocation

we sit on the end of the couch
and there isn't much to say.

they say what they think i need to hear
and all i can do is stare
mumble yes, no

there's really not much to say
not much at all.

they leave
and i keep my eyes level with the wall

- "You really need to take your medication."