It’s summertime and every day is too long.
I know somewhere in my muted thoughts
that I shouldn’t be so miserable.
I should be outside in the blazing sun
with some other kids my age
running and shouting at each other.
But I don’t like the noise.

My brother plays his horrible music loud enough to shake the house
but no one asks him to turn it down.
Last time one of us tried,
there was a nuclear meltdown
in the kitchen,
leaving debris on the floor - shards of glass,
and a tarp covering the open window.
We never know what will set him off.
We never talk about it.

One morning I wake up and the house is shuddering
but not from his music.
I lie under cold sheets, listen to him scream.
and try desperately to tune out his words
until they are meaningless sounds
running in and out of my ears.

He often says he’s going to kill himself.
I have a dream where his closet door stands ajar
like a scene I saw in a crime show on TV
while my mother cries, making this
awful retching sound.
Sometimes he threatens to kill us, his own family.
My parents would say he’s exaggerating.
But if he weren't
at least I could finally get some quiet.