On the edge of the blade, walking softly as not to break the skin. Ready to reveal every cut and bruise instantly and vehemently. Egg shells whisper as those near walk about. They know something. But the soft sound of those useless shells are slicing through my mind like a sharp knife through an open wound.
Death lives next door. He peers out of his window attempting to hide on the ledge. Also agitated I presume from the constant destruction off egg shells under soft pressure. In this day, I hear thoughts of so many. They scream out like at an athlete going for the gold. Like at a cook who is taking far too long to create an omelette. Like at a neighbor with a renewed interest in my life.
Today is appointment day. Today is the day I cut the knife with a blade. Today I stare back at my neighbors. Today I will make my own breakfast made with freshly broken eggshells. Today I will even share my breakdown of breakfast with my neighbor. Today I will meet with agitation.
Out of Sound Mind 