Wide Open

She walks around wide open, a raw nerve, her skin peeled back like a banana exposing her inner workings to the world. Here's her heart, beating arrhythmically, sloppy valves out of sync. Ka-thump, ka-thump, ka-thrum-thump swoosh. Her lungs inflate to the point of bursting, capillaries tentacling out, blood red spider webs blown out, grasping for air then tightening back up, compressing her organs against her spine. Each gust of wind, every molecule of dust, speck of pollen sticks to her like glue, synapses firing off at breakneck speed, each atom overwhelmed with the constant transformation. She feels too much. Mia is overwhelmed by the sheer force of her emotions. Empathetic to the point of immolation, her head and heart duke it out for dominance while her autonomic nervous system is at war with itself. Life is pandemonium. She is powerless to disconnect. Engage, engage, engage. This entropy of self is consuming her. Moments of exquisite ecstasy are too painful to live in. People are in so much agony all around her. Anger, indignation, despair. Mia frantically tries to slough off their terror and shame. She is so wide open there is no longer relief in lover's moans or yelps of joyous laughter and meditations on peace and forgiveness. Layers of scar tissue buffed back by oceans of energy leaking out of everyone. People are porous, broken vessels, cracked, crazed. Mia wishes they'd tamp themselves down, stop up the flow, dam the current and shutter their doors. She tries to protect herself. Layering on masks and attitudes, heavy sweaters, tall boots. Sunglasses, hats, earbuds, gloves, anything for preservation. Eye contact, a shared smile, a cursory glance and mutual acknowledgement and she's blown wide open, engulfed in the tide of feelings surrounding her, drowning her, eating her alive. She feels too much.