The fear that once September comes, it will never stop raining, and the entire autumn will hurt me like a wound.
The fear that I will sit on a bench in the park, with my head in my hands, and someone will startle me. The fear that I will lift my head too suddenly, leaving my face in my palms, and they will laugh and say "Look at that ghastly woman without a face".
The fear that there's a page torn from a book under my bed, and when I pick it up, I will get a paper cut that will bleed forever.
The fear that I lie naked on cold concrete.
The fear that I eat broken glass.
The fear that I am at the bottom of the pit and I hear the pendulum swishing closer and closer.
The fear that the crystal vase with crysantemums, the one on the piano, will fall to the floor and shatter to pieces, and it will never be whole again.
The fear that someone will read this. The fear noone will read this. The fear someone will understand. The fear noone will understand.
And many other fears. Small and big. All terrifying.
The fear that I will sit on a bench in the park, with my head in my hands, and someone will startle me. The fear that I will lift my head too suddenly, leaving my face in my palms, and they will laugh and say "Look at that ghastly woman without a face".
The fear that there's a page torn from a book under my bed, and when I pick it up, I will get a paper cut that will bleed forever.
The fear that I lie naked on cold concrete.
The fear that I eat broken glass.
The fear that I am at the bottom of the pit and I hear the pendulum swishing closer and closer.
The fear that the crystal vase with crysantemums, the one on the piano, will fall to the floor and shatter to pieces, and it will never be whole again.
The fear that someone will read this. The fear noone will read this. The fear someone will understand. The fear noone will understand.
And many other fears. Small and big. All terrifying.
