XIX | Something I Wanted

❦

I haul myself up a tree,

trying to make
life difficult

for my uniformed pursuers.

It's difficult,

unscrewing
a tight pen tip

with shaky, sweaty hands.

But I do it
before the first hand

reaches my foot.

What have I done
to make you treat me like a criminal?

I've swallowed
all 28 pills

when I'm yanked from the tree,

kicking,
clawing,
scratching,
biting

at my attackers.

I feel pain and panic
just like you do.

Do you

know that?

There's a piercing

scream
(which might be me).

My vision blurs,
white figures shifting

like clouds in a time-lapse.

I have dreams too.

There's yelling,
commands given.

Just like you.

I'm pressed against the ground,

my arm
immobilised,

every joint in my body

screeching.

Why are mine
despised by this world?

I feel the prick of a needle

then,
warmth

flowing through,

silencing

the screech.

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