I slept 4 hours, maybe
I fell asleep, a voice lingering in my head. The ceiling looking more distant than it really was.
Somehow more awake than I was yesterday after 5 hours,
6 did even less,
And 7 left me an empty husk of who I was
But time wasn't permanent any more. 2 minutes became 2 hours
And 2 weeks was now 2 days
My vision dimmed & I hoped that the unsettling feeling of everyone's faces
Looking like
, strangers would end--
It didn't..
For hours, they were imperfect strangers blessing me with the kindness people
Like that can only offer to a liar.
Faking a smile cause he can't believe that the things
he sees are real even for a moment.
When your hands shake and float on a background of a still life of a movie screen
Permanence was never the point.
Always looking for the next thing to wait for and waiting for the next thing to look for. People aren't permanent.
But it was what I hoped for.
That the loss of things was less than the time it took to come back from where-ever.
whatever
whenever I was
He didn't die that day, but I'm pretty sure after that things that were once separate became one fuzzy whole
A vista that I couldn't - quite - take in
not because it wasn't a permanent fixture
But more because I had lost it
In the context that made it so
One day, I had forgotten it all.
The other day, I had forgotten the blank spaces in between
All the spots -- and empty bits of subtext that made up a context that made a fuzzy, fuzzy, whole.
Biting my knuckles in an attempt to feel like I was in some way permanent
only to realize that the pain was what made me impermanent
The context was the fixture-
The subtext was the point-
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