I wonder if she realizes where she iswhile the syringe slaps a blackberry bruiseon her skin. Looking at the red second handas if casting a spell on time, her eyes becomethe clock- the one you’d see in a classroom.She fidgets a little under her restraints, clingingthe sanitary sheets of paper into balls of snow.I wonder what she is thinking as she gurglesa fizz of words below her tongue. Shemust have had a bullet-sharp thought and neededto blow her mind apart as she has blunt traumato her head. Her hair bleeds crimson trees all blanketing the bed like scarlet branches in Autumn.I wonder if she sees white walls cracked with chips of black underneath; the scales of a dragon. The ice cube trays on theceiling melt the room with a cooling effect,causes fog to emanate from our breath.I wonder if she feels my flaming thoughtsas I surround her in my broken skin.