There should have been some emotional eggcrate soundproofing
        on the walls of the laboratory
        when the kids began the dissection
        
The teacher reminded me of someone with black hair
        a person of kindness now shocking me with
        hostility and scratching fingernails
        The anger in my heart twists and turns.

My voice raised, and I swung,  and I ran.  To the parking lot,
        where there were chorus lines of conformity,
        and too much testosterone and other hormones
        in the air, causing the students to pursue me.

I don't know why, but I ran.  I flew.  I hid.  I crawled on
        all fours like a lizard, through a crack in the
        mountainside.  Why there was a mountainside so close
        to the school I do not know.  But I fled from them.

Then I was on the front porch of a house painted white, and
        there were people all around, but these people weren't
        chasing me.  They were speaking with my mother -- who
        wasn't really my mother -- and shooting marbles across
        the wooden slats.

I broke through doors, and through windows.  The cracked wood
        splintered into my arms, and the glass pierced my back.
        Escape.  There could've been a mob, or a nation chasing
        me, or it could have been a cloud of dust.  My ears
        were filled with the disruption of angry voices, and
        fantastically cruel epiteths.

The anger spilled over into the grass and sidewalk like boiling
        water.  I fled into the basement, between boxes, and
        cans of half-used paint, through the concrete, and into
        the mud.  My feet took enormous strides, as if I were
        a hundred feet tall, and so conspicuous and loud that
        there was no way I could lose my pursuers.

Confrontation -- happening, yet not remembered.  Resolution.  A
        phantasm choking itself, representing the fall from grace,
        and turning itself inside-out and disintegrating into the
        darkness.  The sound fading, muted by my own breath and
        heartbeat, the framework for this world falling from
        view...no sound, or sight, except for my awakening.