Innocent Little Hallucinations
I want to rip my skin off
sleep, too, wired
Please stop, he’s tired
please, he’s so tired
of the needles
so many needles
didn’t know I was tired, tingling
til the doctors tried to force sleep
I weeped
and weeped and weeped
and screamed, like electricity
Help him. Leave him alone!
HELP HIM.
I’m spinning and spinning
and need to be let out, my body exploded, and splattered -
“You need to sit down.”
And just like that - in my stone-still body
I snapped back to reality.
“He can live with this, right?”
I am swallowed by the ground.
Amelia Napiorkowski (she/her) lives outside of Washington, DC on the Chesapeake Bay with her husband, son, and step-daughters. In 2025, she quit her government job in intelligence to stay at home with her baby and pursue her passion for creative writing. Her work appears in wildscape. literary journal, the Broken Teacup, and Midsummer Dream House.