Loving
too
hard.
I
can't
be
traumatized
from
Caring
too
much.
I
can't
be
traumatized
because
I
only
get
panic
attacks
When
I
hear
sirens
blaring.
Sirens
sound
like
drunken
Phone
calls
and
mixed
signals.
Sirens
sound
like
hungry
animals
And
sick
children.
Sirens
sound
like
apathy
and
resistance.
The
city
hides
in
the
shadows
until
nightfall,
Buried
deep
behind
my
bookshelf.
The
towering
buildings
Made
from
tilted
textbooks
glisten
In
the
moonlight.
Paths
twist
themselves
onto
my
rug,
Roads
to
nowhere
curving
Like
crowded
intersections.
The
smoke
detector
blinks
on
and
off
Like
flashing
emergency
lights.
The
slope
of
my
ceiling
creates
dark
alleyways
Across
the
moon-‐streaked
linoleum.
The
city
builds
from
my
hot
breath.
I
inhale
bedroom
and
exhale
city
Until
I
am
gasping
for
air.
My
window
looks
over
Dead
branches.
I
look
down
on
decaying
Family
trees.
Ghosts
walk
my
streets,
As
I
pace
on
purple
floors.
Every
night,
the
same
dream.
26