the dishwasher hums
as i sit with eyes closed
the sunlight red
against clenched eyelids
the sound of the womb
reverberating rhythmically
after a morning of
frantically silent
scrubbing cut the
dream from daytime

wondering who exactly
others think i am
when most days are spent
uncertain myself
chained by expectations
as manic dips back
into unsettled depression
going from envloped in
golden light to trying
to see through the ice
as i drift on frozen floes