I’m not quite sure for what, though the nagging anxiety that sits in my gut, extends its hands and takes hold of my breath, implies there was a time and place.
My thoughts have not yet reconciled with the body and float above me, spitting resentment upon the vessel that steals them from dreams, from freedom.
Morning has found me, wrapped in stale sheets, red-eyed and cotton mouthed, swimming in the remnants of last night’s forgettable something.
I have a sneaking suspicion someone made a visit as I slept and reupholstered my body with chicken skin, the texture is unfamiliar, there’s an unhealthy tinge to this flesh. I don’t want to wear myself anymore.
Obligation waits impatiently at the window, fogging the glass, I see nothing.
He can keep waiting.
Throwing myself out of bed, like some bobble headed leper, I stumbled straight for the bathroom.
I always hated morning showers, something about the sobering effect made me uncomfortable. You either think, or you sing and neither of those things ever yielded the desired results.
I saw the filth pooling at my feet, afraid for a moment the water would mistake me for the same and I would be washed to the floor, spiralling the grate, wailing, drowned out by the white noise of a million liquid angels, falling from heaven, judging me, passing the sentence; over and into the drain.
It didn’t happen. The murky waters soon became pleasant smelling suds, I felt half human.
Having successfully accomplished a task and birthed myself into the new day, I hesitantly entered the living room. The sun was making its way across the walls, lending a harshness to every surface it illuminated. My eyes relayed a message to the brain, which was ill received, sending tremors through my body, a few short-lived convulsions encouraged some stomach soup to take a vacation in my throat.’