Afterwards

I’m not sure which is worse.  Your disdain or my disbelief.  Somewhere in-between there is a truth that coils like a serpent.  The smell of cigarettes and ammonia.  The bare linoleum floor.  Sterile blue light and just outside crows huddle in the rain.  You ask me, sneering, what I thought I was doing.  And I can’t speak from the rage of it all.  My fists clenched to whiteness.  I must contain this.  The taste of blood in my mouth.  The hum and whine of corridor neon lights.  I cannot look at you.  Cannot.  Instead I let the metallic blood coat my tongue.  Breathe shallow, dark breaths.  And wonder how the fuck I got here.