The daily tears were replaced with weekly resolve and then months of sombre silence. Now, an annual appointment and some wilting flowers is all that pushes my sleepless coma along.
The burn of the needle; her rank morning breath; their incredibly dull gossip... the things that frame my silent cries and puncture the darkness that endures.
Ten years ago I went insane. It was the relentless ping of the heart machine that eventually did me in. Now I just lie in the drool of my madness.
I wrote three pieces that shared a common theme. The first paragraph ended up being my entry into her competition.