The Merry-go-round

The horses are painted pretty
so nobody notices
their teeth.

Gold poles, chipped white saddles,
roses curling ‘round the ceiling,
music spilling from somewhere overhead
in a tune I swear
I’ve heard a thousand times before.

Maybe I have.

Maybe this is the thousandth time
I’ve passed this exact light,
this exact crack in the floorboards,
this exact smiling face
watching me go around.

Round and round.
Up and down.
I think I’m getting better.
Then—
the music starts again.

The lights are too bright
These horses move too fast.
My stomach twists,
my hands slip,
my heart is begging to leave the cavity I call my chest.

I want to get off.

Please.
I need to get off.

But the pole is slippery
and the floor won’t stop moving
and the voices are getting louder.

Someone is watching.
Someone is following.
Someone is whispering my name.

I turn.

Nobody.

Again,
I turn.

Up.
I’m invicible.
I don’t need sleep.
I don’t need help.
I can hear everything.
I can see everything.

Faster.

Down.
I can’t breathe.
I can’t think.
I can’t move/
I don’t want to wake up
and do this all again.

Faster.

The world is spinning.
My vision blurs.
My throat burns
as stomach acid climbs.
I grip the horse so tightly
my fingernails split.

Stop—
I’m begging.

I can see the exit.
It’s right there.
Just one more turn.
Just one more second.

But the voices are laughing
and the shadows are crawling
and the ground is disappearing.

It never
FUCKING
ends.

Round and round.
I’m going to be sick.

Up and down.
I’m going to lose my mind.

Round and round.
Maybe I already have.

And somewhere beyond the flashing lights,
someone tells me
I’m making progress.

But—
I’m still on the same horse.
Still hearing the same voices.
Still passing the same exit.
Still begging someone
to turn the fucking thing off.

And the music—

God,
the music—

It’s starting again.