Exceptional

The suffering of mental illness and suicide

A Mannequin and Bleached Bones

by Theodore McDowell

I watch myself                         oddly separate from myself, one-part plastic mannequin,                         the other bleached bones,             the denied death-decayed child left behind unretrievable                         like a waterskin on an ancient family battlefield.   The synthetic part of me             with cauterized                         nerve endings             grips a shiny brass doorknob locked on the other side, crinkles paper into a ball that can’t bounce.             I laugh,                         500 miles away             from my body,  at the weather channel as if 72 degrees was a sitcom.   Shoes without laces shuffle                         down a tile hallway, liquid thoughts of suicide                         seep through                         my mind, lake water             gushing                         through a fisherman’s net.                  Hot carbon monoxide silently ramrods                         into my lungs.   In the hospital,             I eat a croissant for breakfast, trying to swallow                         the crescent moon, trying to devour                                     the emptiness between myself                         and myself.