Who's Really Dissociative In This Piece?

JustABunchOfWords Poems

As I walk through the park, I can feel myself slip away. The eyes go numb. The brain goes high functioning but super rational. My skin doesn't fit anymore, Like a suit that never got tailored properly. The doctor calls it Dissociating. I see that shopping cart man. The soap from his last shower has long since washed away. His skin is the cracked, brown leather of a bull whip and his voice rings out like an Indiana Jones anthem. He speaks in parables and nonsensical phrases. I wonder if he is me. Or am I him? Walking through the park, watching him, I see no recognition of this world in his eyes, and wonder what he's living in. Maybe his entire life is a delusion and he sees his life through my eyes. Is what I've been seeing and living what he sees and lives? Will I wake up one day, and look around and realize I'm in this park? I've always been here. I told the Doctor I don't think so. I don't think I'm actually Dissociative. I just often argue the actuality of my own existence with myself.