Aspen Crick
Contributor
Bound to this chair.
Restless,
Hopeless,
Spitting,
Crashing.
Tools I can't name invading my personal space.
Confined,
Defined by cavities and the amount of dental floss used.
Unable to utter a coherent word,
Merely moving my head this way and that.
Hoping that someone will see the fear in my eyes,
But they are covered with oversized generic sunglasses.
The buzz is creating an unpleasant sensory overload.
Wondering when it will end,
And hoping to not have to endure it again.
Luckily for me this hell only happens twice a year.
