Rounding The Edges

By Sini Jerome

(on the benefits of Neurographic Art)

The pen is already on the page before I know what I'm drawing.

The hand moves first, the mind follows later.

Where lines collide, I round the edges.

The pen scratches; the table wobbles.

My breathing slows.

For once, the sound outside my head

is louder than the sound inside—

the fan ticking, a scooter horn far off,

someone's radio blasting old filmi songs.

I add color—

not to decorate,

but to separate.

Yellow for urgency.

Blue for calm.

Grey for the parts I can't name yet.

My wrist cramps.

The page fills with shapes

I didn't intend—

organic, strange, mine.

It’s still chaos, but fenced in.

Panic, sketched into shape.

I don't feel better.

Not fixed.

But for twenty minutes,

I had somewhere to put it.

I lift my hand.

Ink along my thumb, a small dark shine.

Tomorrow, I'll likely need another page.

For today, this will do.

By Sini Jerome