For Me, I Knew

By Joel Sedano

The moment I wake up,

eyes flit, arms unbend

indiscernible sounds rip

the silence–some solace

before blues set like a

deep ache in my bones.

Sunshine reduces to grey

matter painted across the

room, gelling into a sick

swirl of assurances. I say

a little prayer or two, as

cortisol unravels my mind’s

acuity. Outside my door

anxiety now peels yellow

off the walls, scratching

to catch a glimpse of a

figure trapped like a mirror

impression split between

cracks–yuhnotalright. Did

I take my pills? Ovals rattle

a greenishorange signal for

soul weary like Solange or

Langston: autonomy of

mindbody left on E. Out,

damned spots, all side effects

hit, stretching ocular muscles

to their reality limits. I say a

prayer–thanks St. Koe,

bottled smiles makemebetter?

Stomach churns forever & ever,

building towards episodic

symphony–manic meltdown.