**Based on true events, involving myself.**

…

It was day three of the refrigerator letting out a wheezing cough as I opened it. My stomach yearned for the taste of something other than the back of my throat. The night I spent, fighting the churning pangs, forcing sleep on myself before I inevitably gave into incessant hunger. I couldn’t do it any longer. The white walls—the white refrigerator. The droning noise in chronic silence. It was dizzying.

I managed to find a pair of clean clothes—I wasn’t able to wash in at least a month, my allowance of quarters simply fizzled away into nothingness—just as I did. A forgotten thing, a discarded item, simply another leaf in the wind—except, unlike a leaf, I had no purpose. I couldn’t melt into the ground and become life-bringing mulch, to nourish the scavengers, to produce any fruit. I couldn’t fly and plant a seed far away, and somewhere a tree could remember my sacrifice. I was nothing—and was to be, nothing.

After an unsatisfying shower, I donned my mask and clothes, and went into fresh air. The smell of the grass, the warmth of the sun, though during the fall it felt as if the Sun slipped away into the wind. I felt nothing. Looking into that blue sky—I felt no freedom. I still felt that cage of those walls closing around me. My freedom wasn’t to last. I had to be quick, my hunger wouldn‘t allow time to pass.

Briskly I walked, knowing my destination wasn’t far. I knew of a place that could provide what I looked for. I knew what my plan was. The grocery store loomed on the horizon, the letters captivated me—it felt like I hadn’t seen civilization in years, though really, it hadn’t been but a month. I remained indoors in fear that the ever-looming eyes would lash out again, accusing me of god-knows-what. I wasn’t to be seen or trusted. I was a thing, a thing to be forgotten.

It felt like forever, but I finally walked through the doors of my salvation. There were voices and sounds, smells that I missed—produce lining the aisles, reds, greens, blues—candies, cakes, cookies, it was bliss. The white walls of the refrigerator were forgotten in this place. In the past, the grocery store was my bane—now? —It was my only friend.

I scanned the place quickly, eyeballing any cameras, security and anything that would get in the way of my goal. I made it a point to remain as conspicuous as possible, acting innocently, carefully checking each item as if I were another clueless shopper. I casually walked to my left, and straight ahead to an area obscured by shelves, and unironically removed from people. A yellow box of lemon cookies caught my eye. I felt my stomach turn again—I needed this. Days of being abandoned took my senses into overdrive, the explosion of taste taking my fantasies into reality. I couldn’t wait, every hesitation abruptly left as I thought of the fullness of my stomach. I grabbed them, and stuffed them within my coat, making sure to avoid contact with anyone. Thievery wasn‘t my strong suit. I held my breath as I made my way back to the entrance, my heart jumping through my chest knowing what I just did. A teenage thief. Who would’ve thought?

I passed with deceptive quickness, passing security and managing to escape undeterred. I released my breath, letting out a silent chuckle, feeling a sick happiness as I clutched those cookies in my coat. The plastic surrounding them couldn’t be any louder, but I didn’t care—hunger was calling, and I needed to sate it.

Walking toward “home”, I knew that I’d be had if I returned with an item that no one knew where I’d originally obtained it. They would take what was rightfully mine—and like an animal, I claimed possession—rabidly thinking, “they’ll take this from me! No! I can’t—they’ll found out, they can’t find out, they’ll hurt me!”

I remember walking until I saw the park. It was casually placed by the local library I visited before my isolation. The gazebo stood as adequate shelter. My ordeal was almost over and I could finally eat!

I took myself and my prize and sat on the cobalt blue park bench. The seat was cold and uncomfortable, the metal felt like it was jutting into my bones. I didn’t care—nothing was more discomforting than the hunger. I removed the package from my coat and sat it on the similarly colored table in front of me.

My stomach angrily groaned. Oh I needed this—but then… I hesitated. I looked up from the yellow package, and saw… Life.

The sounds of the children playing. A group of men, engrossed in a game of basketball, sharing laughter. A mother with her children, a father taking them into his arms. A couple lazily enjoying the Sunset.

I saw Life. Life passing me by. That park bench stood as an anchor, holding me in time. Everything that was dull became full of color. I remembered the warmth of the Sun—remembering that it loved me.

—something fell down my cheek. I reached up a hand to clear it. Tears formed in my eyes as I watched Life from this park bench.

There was beauty in this humanity. But… I could find none in mine. On that bench—I was reduced to an animal. Clawing, and scavenging for a meal.

And then, I ate. Wiping salty tears away, mixed with the tang of lemon. The park bench and I stood in time.

I sensed the summer-time fog rolling in. The crickets chirped a peculiar song. It seemed as if it were sung for me, tones cheery, the wind crisp, the smells of the bonfires taking my nose into peace.

Sunset took its time. That burnt-orange slowly took hold, overlapping the cyan sky, the clouds are now wisps—jutting in tall formations, flying away. The spirits are dancing among the tapestry.

the Sun took me in. Embraced me. The warmth is fading, but I can still understand its presence. It is Love. All-encompassing. The glow of light from this stellar being brings me to comfort. Childhood almost. I was raised under the summer Sun.

Laughter. Cookouts. The cackle of an uncle, and auntie, a mother, a father, a brother. The mosquito bite I forgot to douse in alcohol. The grass humming. Cool air sweeps in, cigarette embers carried into the wind. A game of Spades hollered into the evening.

I remember the misty rain that fell earlier to give way to such a time. The fog that broke. I remember that laughter. That family reunion. That get-together. Frankie Beverly played into the night. We danced, didn’t we? We had a time last night.

the mist gave way.

I found myself at the edge of sanity.

—it toyed with me. The screams echoing in my subconscious boiled, until it reached my throat—cataclysmic, explosive pain, I, released. Unbridled.

”Do you know pain?” —it asked me. Its voice just as honey, dripping slow, curing this sickness. “why do you act as if you forget me?“

my eyes are burning. My lungs are ash, I, can’t anymore. I grip the sheets as I sob into them with all strength, the voices of sorrow spill into my pillow—I remember pain.

“Do you know despair?”—it seemed as if it was chiding me. How dare I forget this? How dare I forget the familiar dance with Death—how dare I forget its embrace, how dare I forget the wailing agony? I can’t catch my breath, the tears feel like glass.

”Do you remember silence? Do you remember nothingness? Emptiness?”

—every word is a memory. To the joy, to the laughter. The faces of each loved one past. The ones held dearly, the ones holding me, and now—I hold them, up, in conscious memorial. Every gasp is fire. Fury, anger, rage—how could you leave?! And forget me?! I remember!

And then… silence. The sobs stop. My face wet with grief, my eyes swollen and fat. I… sleep? How long has it been since I’ve slept? what is today, is today tomorrow, is it supposed to be now, where is it then?!

—I’m awake. The tears are dry. And *it* echoes to me a cackling goodbye. It knows it will be back. My sanity is granted once more. The day is here.

I have a confession.

When I smell the scent of Brandy—I cave. The tinge of her skin, I almost feel the dance of her muscles in my embrace, she heats me past fervent desire, I—I can’t hold it anymore.

holding it close, the familiar curve in my palm and I choose which I wish to suckle, she guides with me with the gentle tug, the liquid pouring forth—fireworks! The world turns into dizzying humidity, I—can breathe again! I can fly again! I can run again! She takes me, to numerous heights! I dip my head back to take her fully in, oh, the moan of ecstasy—thank you GOD! You’ve given me Brandy! You’ve given me… you’ve given me life.

—the room returns to grey.

I remember where I am. I look to the glassy frame in front of me. Feeling it in my palm, embracing it.

thank god… I know brandy.

As I blow the dust, it seems that I breathe life into you.

—the frame glows in dim light. Running my fingers on the pane. This feels different from your skin. This cold doesn’t suffice. The warmth that I remember… it’s not the same. The tears putter pitifully, my silent cries are providing you water. Showering you in rain.

could I make a plant grow from your ashes? Will new life sprout green, will grass provide flowering blooms? Will I, like God, bring forth Adam? —And from his rib, give another piece of love, letting you roam this piece of Heaven, this Eden—my heart. My soul.

Our expressions are locked in time. The edges of this are faded, burnt, crimped, tainted. The smiles are frozen in an endless trance. The flame of life seems to have gone. But I still feel you. In the silence.

The memory is in sepia. My dreams are in vibrance.

it stands in time. Unmoving.

My desire to be free of my own mind continues its desperate dancing struggle.

I am an enemy to my own conscience.

I overthink the already overthought—a precarious precipice I dangle as a leaf in a summer’s typhoon, I, drown in the raging tide, I, climb through mounds of archives—limitless, in its capacity.

“It’s 12:36 am,” I tell myself, “I have to sleep”.

there is none. The battle continues, I can hear the swords coming to blows, each knife-sound, is a word cutting ever deeper. A wound, an infection, creeping—slowly into the capillaries, spreading open within my veins, my arteries, my very limbs—septic.

I can no longer breathe on my own it seems. I can no longer bear the burden of consciousness.

I sleep. —The war begins anew.

Into me you flow like the streams, caressing sounds, river rushing, gushing into a waterfall—

splitting open into the sea.

Your touch against my body, flames. Heating the embers of our love, we become as one—groaning volcano, earth flexing and pulling, in a dangerous, tempting dance of passion.

The air, its humid embrace, you pulled me closer, and I heard your husky voice in my being, vibrating deeper into the crux of my mind—etched words into my memory, your huffs are the music I crave. Your moans I need. I don’t need to breathe, I want nothing more than to suffocate in your arms, nothing but the smell of your skin should be in my midst.

I feel… I feel you, deeper! Don’t stop, I don’t think I can hold on any longer—we’ll… we’ll go together.

Take me there. Take me. Turn me into liquid, sink me deeper into the earth, I need to feel more…

I see the Sun.

Peering into the horizon, rays focused unto a new tomorrow.

Dawn approaching, the day trickles past, time unrecoverable.

I breathe new life. I breathe life, into life.

As the mortal clock ticks away; tears complete the night.

a new sob, leaves me. An exasperated sigh—long overdue. And; another day comes, as they are due, the mourning dew drips on blades of grass, refreshing dead soil.

it heals. it covers.

Dreaded Time. It takes. It gives. It repairs. It goes on… and on… and on.