Ten to nine, slightly closed eyes
Seeing visions of a different non-existent
Time interrupted by eight missed calls
Dialing my fight or flight in seconds
Seven unread messages demanding my reply

I can barely read the time
But I'll try to read the lines
As I open, a stoic expression is my first reaction
You can see it in my answers
I stop for six seconds
Stuck writing the beginning five letters

Four sentences constructed
To encompass a quarter of life's lessons
Each character carefully incubated
To perfection like medals

I spit them out from the trenches
Exchanging tension for tension on foggy lenses
Trembling, praying you can't sense it

Three dots staring at me turn to mentions of my temper
And nonsensical ramble of how two years render useless
If it tramples with your pride