Unadulterated panic

Born of my Brain and my


I have been asleep for days

And also blindingly awake

I’ve been stuck in a mayhem of reality

And fiction

The fiction is what I want life to be

Reality is eating me from the outside in and back


But when i need to awaken from this numb slumber of human denial

Pain isn’t obvious

I ferociously stand at the foot of my bed,

The frame of the doorway,

The pantry in the dark,

And pace in the quiet gloom of first world terror midst an entire worlds’ nightmare

I need to be pinched so I pour a drink

Sanity is more performing than ever

draw strings

night is when i relax

when i think up all of the good thoughts

relentlessly, and unabashedly

it is at night

when i am able to be real

when i am able to use unsavory wording

when i am able to show a risque photo of me

only to

delete it all by morning