Brain damage has a way of making the world fade
so the bricks in the wall are fuzzy,
so thoughts won’t spring to mind,
so you’re never quite awake.
It’s not exactly the same as alcohol,
but it’s close.
Controlling your body through a long tunnel
Watching yourself make
one decision a minute.
Watching yourself walk across the room
as you stay on the couch.
Like when you skip two nights in a row
cause the fire inside you just will not go out
long enough to close your eyes.
The sun rises as it sets. It’s up
and in minutes it sinks back down again.
No one sees you, hiding in your room. You
don’t believe in the future. No one
sees you , they wouldn’t care if you got better.
Like half a month in a cloud of cynicism so thick
you couldn’t be seen by God himself.
And walking through halls and down streets and up stairs
among the shadows of stupid ignorant people
who don’t understand and didn’t ask,
and you really wish they’d asked.
Are they imaginary,
or am I?
That is how I’ve felt for these five years
and they have passed in the time it takes
to say it doesn’t matter.
Freedom is the worst thing that ever happened to me.
Did my last real feelings freeze when the world did,
all but guilt and despair,
still waiting to be picked up where I dropped them off in high school?
Have I got five years of unread emails in a hidden folder somewhere?
Or do I just not have a self at all?