Little by little, scooch by scooch, you brought in the walls ‘til they’re so close I can hardly even breathe anymore and I can hardly even move anymore. I cannot maneuver these hallways and I bump my head on the doorframe when I go to try and leave.
At night, I wake up and lying there in the dark, I can feel the ceiling just inches above my face. It’s way too close and there’s not enough air and it’s all closing in on me.
You shrank the van to where it looks like a toy. Kids on skateboards tower over me. Dogs tailgate me. Grandmas laugh at me.
At work now, my office is like a cardboard box and it’s all closing in on me.
You. You stole away my time. Robbed me. Don’t think that I don’t know this. A moment at a go adds up. Ever so slowly drained.
You redrew the minute hash marks around all my clocks ‘til an hour is what twenty-one minutes used to be. You bled hours out of days and then days out of August so I can’t finish what it was that I came here for.
I’m not even sure 2010 ever happened.
You. You stole away my sight. Robbed me.
Now the greens aren’t green anymore and the blues aren’t blue. The reds just sort of sit there pink-like and the yellows? Well, the yellows’ve faded away completely.
You. You scrambled my mind. You murdered my sanity. You took it slowly, drip by little drip, but now I cannot find my car keys and I go around blaming others for the well-documented symptoms of simply getting old.
You numbed all my feelings. Scraped the taste buds – bud by bud by bud – right off of the tip of my tongue. Sliced the nerve cells from my sex. Now I can only love or hate on every other day and even panic’s getting tough for me to reach.
You did this. Very sneaky-like. Don’t think that I don’t know.
You see, I’ve been paying close attention all along. From the start. Laying low and making plans. Oh, yes. I have been awake in the night and I have listened to the grinding as the walls were moving in. I’ve heard them.
I’ve measured the length of hours against well-known prog rock tunes. I have committed true mauve to memory.
You are sitting there so comfortably right now. Confident. Happy. You think you have committed what must be the perfect crime. Breathing in all that breath which is my breath. Living in all that space which is my space. Wasting away all those hours which are my hours to waste away.
But you know what?
I’m coming for them.
My air. My time. My greens and my blues. My reds and my yellows and my mind and my feelings. Mine.
They will be mine again. I will be like I was before.
I will reach down inside you and I will reclaim what is mine. I will hear the sick wet snap as I break them loose.
And it is going to hurt.
You. I mean it’s going to hurt you.
I’m going to make sure of it.