“Breathe in. Breathe out.” Darling, do you not understand? “Breathe in. Breath out.” The face is wet. “Breee in. Brea out.” Hand the child its bottle. “Bre in. Brea out.” 1.32pm, still 1.32pm. “Br in. Bree ot.” A dying disposition. “Breth-n. B-out.” Loosen the tap. Please! “Breeeeeeeeeeee in. Bee out.” Veins of pulsation. “Brrrrrrrr In. Ot.” Lollipops are leaking. “INNNNNN. OUUUUT.” You ask the child to breathe and yet, you gave them no lungs. Can you walk without your legs? “Breathe In. Breathe Out.” Fuck your breath. The child is still.
Alcohol is a peculiar potion; a single glass of it containing hysteria. My sense of self becomes one that I can no longer control. It’s almost as if the prisoner within me, the prisoner that is me, is set free. My inhibitions become myths, a once upon a time fairytale. I listen to the music, the music in the speakers, the music in the air, and I am taken into the rhythm of all sound. My body begins to mimic the beat but then it becomes the beat, speaking only the language of dance and truth. I see those around me, not as reflections of my worth, but as reflections of life. I speak to them with an honest tongue, liberating their prisoners, placing crowns upon their heads. I do not know the science of this, I do not know how, but yesterday I wished for death and today I wish for a thousand years. All that I deemed impossible has proved me wrong, and now everything sits in the front of my mind demanding manifestation. I can do everything, I think. Actually, I can do everything, I know. However, what I don’t know is that when dawn comes, the shadows will too. I will be locked in darkness, once again dreaming of escape, and a man that is allegedly me, will pick up a gun and hold it to my head.