Riddled Reality — Sans Sanus

My spine is made of stones
lined up in single, smoothed, grey pebble file.
My stom­ach is hol­lowed out
an empty cav­ity in a tree.
My eyes are morphine
blind with bubbles burst­ing behind them in
my sand­pit mind.
I dig until my nails get gritty
find­ing treas­ures, fossils, toy sol­diers
and bottle caps, sil­ver thin and glint­ing in the after­noon sun.
My hands graze and strain
dig­ging up the black box
which, locked inside, stores the secret,
a small, blunt, heavy gun.

 

Legs drunk on the scrambled time
Move, stumble-run, without me.
They stag­ger together
tak­ing me places before I have thought to go.
I have been hungry for so long
I have for­got­ten how to taste
how to think about the big­ger smal­ler things
I have for­got­ten how to won­der about the waves
and weather.
I have been tired so long I have for­got­ten
how to dream when I sleep.
I awake now imme­di­ately with the dawn
crawl­ing out of my hideout in the bough
of high up trees.

 

My mouth is dry with flies
and I keep repeat­ing days
circ­ling between vis­ions of past and present
I lose which hour is now and which was then
I have broken out of tense and
speak in broken sen­tences to myself
I do not laugh out loud.
And my hands are rough with wire.

 

I am alone and those who do not want me
walk the city streets.
My hair has grown and my body cleans itself
incom­pletely. But I do not have the
strength or energy to notice smell.
I must fol­low the instruc­tions.
How long has it been now?
Days or years alone?
But I can­not break, I can­not let go.
I must work, pro­tect, stay alert and
vigil­ant, not let myself get hurt
keep myself awake and with it
away from other vis­ions and words
I must remem­ber to remind myself that
this is the only,
This. Is. The. Only. Real World.

 

Dehyd­rated days and sig­nals and secret mes­sages
of sal­va­tion left hid­den in places
where other eyes might not see them:
curled in leaves, that align only in the
breeze at the right time, from the right angle.
Writ­ten almost as though by chance
in the scrawl of a bark
bit­ten out by grubs and ants
I must stay awake and not miss any signs
That may help me close in on their reality.

 

I will chase those voices who always rearrange
sticks just ahead and around the corner
point­ing towards door­ways I would oth­er­wise
choose not to enter.
I will obey their signs if only to meet their chal­lenges
and con­front their form.
I will struggle on to show them that I am stronger
then they who visit in my sleep and
change the real­it­ies around me.

 

I will stay awake I will stay away from the wrong real­ity
I will stay strong and sane.
I will learn to tell the real from the fake,
I will struggle on in silence but not in vein,
I will stay awake
I will do what I must to stay awake
I will cure the hurt and wrongs of this world one riddle at a time
I will stay awake
I will take as much as I can take.
As long as I can just stay awake.

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