i can't explain it. i can't breathe. i can't think.
all i ever do is cry. i can't help myself.

the cedar of the chair is iron on my spine. rigid shoulders, numb thighs- vipers of hands lay in rest, cupping my heart and peering at it curiously between malicious fingers. they threaten to bite, to poison, to consume. they threaten to break me, and they will succeed.
several delicate seconds. i near emotional climax. a beautiful red lounges in my peripheral. it is bright; it is warm; it is anger.
i succumb.

they ask me what i'm doing, crouched on the floor. they ask me how i'm feeling, face contorted, eyes anticipating flood. 
they are blinded by love and i am forced to lie.
the excuses claw their way up my throat. then i run. 
and only then am i free.

the sun is bright- i gulp it down. there is yellow on my tongue. yellow illuminates the path below. 
a house of anxiety is at my back. by the door there is a flower. it is yellow.
i do not turn again.
scream after scream, i continue running. 
bullets fly and pierce my skin. they are water, salted with fear.
even my blood is yellow.