Constantly, slightly drunk

Sometimes I want to scream, so I try. I open my mouth; clench my eyes shut and I try to throw that scream, that blood curdling, and gut-wrenching scream. Instead, all I can make is a noise, not loud, not a whimper but a pitiful sound. A sound that mocks my effort at bashful screaming. Next, I decide perhaps if I were to break something, do what most people do when they are angry or sad or helpless. I pick up my globe like metal ashtray and point it to the mirror and I think all right, this is it. I am going to take this ashtry and swing it to the mirror and watch my reflection shatter to pieces. That should explain how I feel. I will leave a physical evidence of my mental condition, accompanied with a noise, visual to see after, if am lucky I might accidently snip a finger or bruise. Something that I can nurture and make better, in that process my mind too will perhaps heal. I see myself thinking this through too much and then the mess, who will clean up the mess? Shattered pieces of glass, do I wear a glove to pick the larger pieces before I sweep the smaller one’s out. How will I explain it to the people I live with, it can’t be an accident, I wouldn’t want them worrying about me, or say “do you need to be so dramatic?” or “Have you lost your mind?”  That must be it, I must’ve lost my mind to think a scream or general disruptive behavior is cure to how I feel. I see a trickle of water streaming down my eyes now, this can’t be, and do I let it stream down or wipe it? Do I find a way to stop this; perhaps if I stand under the shower, it would all mingle in, water to water and not much of a mess to deal with. Its sorted now, I’ll take a deep breath, empty out my ashtray and take a shower.  All of this should be normal. People take deep breaths all the time, ashtrays are cleaned and showers stream down your skin.