dum spiro, spero

i moved to south carolina

reluctantly, with nothing

but my degree and a few

prescription bottles

i told my psychiatrist

in august that i stopped

feeling real. my fingers

and toes went numb

sometimes they felt like

they were filled with TV static

the air was colder in virginia

i could feel it in my nostrils

every time i returned

the first breath felt like

waking up in a haze

sweaty sheets, after months

of an ongoing nightmare

sweet relief when you realize

you’re in your old bedroom

but every time i come back

to a place they want me

to call home. i stop feeling

real at all. the air is suffocating

and dum spero, spiro.

ergo, ego non iam spiro.