A Season in Hell VI

by Elizabeth Kirschner

I am fathomless under the fathoms. My body parts—an arm here, a leg there—are going numb. It’s cold in here, but I’m not sure where here is. How could that be? How can I exist if I don’t know where here is? Give me back my house. Give me back my seasick mind. Enough dying for a day, a very long day. After an interval of interminable time, I start to come back. Brains plastered back together, but I feel like a billboard, a cold still billboard. And just what is my message? Am I broadcasting, in live time, my insanity? The coming back is hard, real hard, like swimming without limbs, but I’m doing it, holding my breath till I break the icy surface. Someone wants to hold me down, but I escape and here I am on the study floor. A lucid lunatic. Exhausted, I crawl over to my chair. I open my sticky eyes and see that the sun is shining, shining really hard, like a diamond. That’s what the sun is, a brilliant diamond, and that’s what my brain is, a brilliant diamond that gets shattered again and again.
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