And when it rains, ethereal forces grind against my skull,
White noise overrides my existence,
Breathing feels dull.
If only I could somehow evade the present tense
Because the present tense is a crowded margin—
A room without doors or windows.
The air solidifies with your ignorance and my chagrin.
Lights are beaming and buzzing but I seem to be the only one who knows—
Who notices the searing in my skull.
A storm rages in me.
No one hears the thunder, sees the lightning, or feels the rain fall.
I’ve become the epitome of invisibility.
About the Creator
Remi Akers
Remi is a poet and Young Adult fantasy/contemporary writer. They are a nonbinary demi-androromantic asexual who has chronic pain and fatigue. They like to write all things dark, queer, and cozy.
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