Consuming

tap tap tap

goes the water somewhere

I roll on the other side, only to discover something odd in my reflection.

I rise up. If I walk away from it, it ceases to exist.

It’s tough, it refuses to be put out, it worms its way inside me until I burn brightly in anguish, devours me and turns my skin upside down. I’m shattered. It’s free. 

I breath water, as it envelopes me

give in to its deathly embrace

I must have forgotten to close the tap. That’s why I’m drowning. I slide to the room. The water is not flowing. The sink is perfectly dry. I don’t understand what’s happening to me. It’s not me in the mirror anymore, it’s getting harder and harder to catch glimpses of the original me. What if I can never turn back?

The room feels very cold suddenly. I hide myself under my blanket.