Equations 

I have an equation in my head,

where the means never sum up to an end.

My days are binaries

of ones and zeros,

have and have-nots.

I either compute or shut down.

(turn on)
If you swallow enough screams,

it will shatter your glass veins
with the resulting echoes loud enough

in your deserted body

to rouse the sleeping dogs.
And years of starving off their needs

wouldn’t seem as smart

when they wake hungry for your throat.

I know this

because I live with the barks
punctuating a constant 1 in my windpipe.

My heart skips too many beats.

I know that the strongest bridge
would chip off in time
against the onslaught of a hammer tongue.

I know that I inherited her hammer tongue.

I choose t0.

I lay it down.

Let it gather rust in storms.

I have never been happier for my feeble hands.

So, when I say

“I’m having a bad day,”

I carry the bridge in my lungs.

Know that I am offering that you cross

while it still stands.

Know that I have frail arms,

but I am still pounding these words out

with all my might,

hoping I don’t damage more than I fix.

I do not intend to bite,

but my tongue wags dangerously

like the dogs I kicked awake.

It’s hard to speak calmly

when my words are running for life.

The next time you see fit to ask me

why I am sad

like you’re talking about the weather,

I hope you know that you’re inviting

a storm to tell you bedtime stories.

You expect niceties to put your mind to rest,

but I have whirlwind reasons hurling themselves

against these walls of mine

hard enough to dislodge a brick or two.

Some days, I count the dust settling in my eyes

like stars that never get counted when I can’t shut down.

My hands are tired of hammering the words

that you never fully intended to listen.

No, the hammer doesn’t quit being heavy

just because you demand for it to build this once.

It breaks just as much.

Know that the bridge dangles in your care now.

I don’t have parachute lungs to chase

every breath that you will not let me catch.

I have an equation in my head,

where the means never sum up to an end.

I take measured breaths and calculated risks

in explaining the aftermath,

but know that I’ve never been any good

at math, to begin with.
(turn off)

By,

Enbah, KL.

 

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