Madison Hines

i feel like a girl

swallowed by a fish.

all around me,

aching black.

up/down, left/right, slime covering

the curved walls of this room i rot in.

something smells of death

and dying. i can’t decide if it’s me

or the fish.

                                                   i keep having this dream.

                                                                                                                        i’m chewing bubblegum.

it gets stuck to my teeth.

                                                             the only way to get it out

is to rip out the teeth.

                                                            but when i rip out the teeth,

i’m still left with the gum.

i had another dream,

that we were laughing,

poking holes in the clouds

with our fingers.

you got your arm ripped

off by a zombie

and you died so i was left to deal with that.

let’s talk about the times

                                                                  you tried to sleep

                                             and i wouldn’t let you.

let’s talk about the fact

that you’ve thanked me a hundred times

for waking you up,

                                                             for pulling you out of the dark warm haze

of drifting.

let’s talk about the fact

that you asked for help, but i can’t even

pull my own body out

of the lake or dress it in

                                                                   dry clothes again.

let’s talk about how all of this

is part of the same dream,

with the gum and the

teeth and the

zombies.

                                        let’s talk about how it’s all the same dream,

and let’s talk about how i don’t

sleep anymore.

let’s talk about how i sleep

all the fucking time but

never at night.

(actually let’s not talk about that)

there are dust bunnies between my ears, under my bed.

they have teeth,

                                                  but only i can see. they smell like a fever,

but only you can smell. i touch them and my

fingers melt. i don’t touch them

anymore.

i had a dream that you slept, and it ruined me. your skin was

cold. your mouth tasted like river filth.

i had a dream that you floated off on

the water i’m drowning in. i remember thinking,

no, it’s supposed to be me

now.

it can’t be both of us.

this part of the story is black on one side and white on

the other,

and im trying to reach you

but you’re crying and shaking your head.

i had a dream that

something was growing in my

rib cage. it was the color of pus, and it sucked all the

marrow out of my bones.

i want to sleep. don’t let me sleep. it’s not time.

                                                                                                                                                    let’s talk about how

we’re both supposed to be in the belly of this

fucking fish.

i can see you through the scales.

                                                                                                                             i can’t tell if you’re looking at me

                                                                           or away from me.

                                                       i had a dream that i was the fish

and you were the girl

and i swallowed you to keep you

close to me,

so you couldn’t decide you wanted

a different fish.

                                                                                                                  in this version, who is the fish?

                    this part of the story is when i am dead,

you’re alive,

and nobody remembered

to feed the dog so the

dog ate my heart and you yelled at her

for it.

i want to be remembered, but history

doesn’t know my face

or my name.

i told him once, but i was

too quiet

and he was busy

anyways.

there is a point and the point is this:

i can’t tell anymore if i’m the girl

or the fish,

                                                    but i think the smell is both of us.

-thalassophobia