Failure to self-soothe

My stitches finally came out

The last of them

Nothing hurts anymore

Soreness is bearable

My breathing is shallow

I can’t catch my breath

It’s not going down deep enough

It’s like I can’t yawn fully

All the time

My brain is boiling slowly inside my cranium

There is nothing to worry about

Nothing is wrong

Everything is safe

Nothing feels safe

They aren’t as violent anymore

These conquering ghosts

They only have a low voice

But they haunt me

There is a big hole

over which I fly like a helpless feather

It doesn’t always feel bad

and I never hit a surface

But I have no say

Where is the control?