Screen Face

My eyes go wide. Do you see. The silent woman. On the screen. Hushing me. Don’t tell. Don’t tell. I go home. Sit in the bath. My chin on my knees. There is nobody to see. The skin hangs off. But doesn’t fall. Everywhere there are words. On the T-shirt. The man from the church. It starts with you. She really scared me. This really scares me. There is no one to tell. No T-shirt to wear. The woman stays here. In the corner of the room. All night. There is no plan B. I cut it out. From the paper I don’t read. Which tells me the day. Stick it in my book. The book with numbers. Numbers I collect. As if they will solidify my existence. Give me a grid reference upon which to hang myself. I went to the phone box. In the park. At lunch time. My work was impeccable. My lunch was me. I find red words again. In the morning killmethefacesaysdie It has rubbed onto my stomach. I go back to the cold bath. Try to wash it off. Rest my chin back on my knees. I am in a house so quiet the electricity makes more noise than me. It catches me. Captivates me. In a trance. I am gone. Do you see the silent woman. On the screen. I think it was me.