it seems too contrite to think that it is a revelation that life can change in a single instant like the fraction of a second the blink of an eye when the world goes dark and you forget that you can actually see
but i get stuck there knocked out of this reality and thrown headlong onto the asphalt that doesn't give way for my crystalline bones and tear-stained face how can this not be real when the pain is inescapable taking up residence in each secret crevice of my war-torn self and i can't run with these compound fractures ivory bone peeking through my crimson stained skin my spilt blood somehow reabsorbing into my pores trying to return home but those cells are outlaws they've been expelled exiled and it feels like they are now more a part of the obsidian ground around me where i've lost myself
where no one can reach me
i'm behind a mirror hidden in a plume of smoke and my agony my suffering cannot be touched or sublimated into ether where i can die and all the world will note is the lack of my return to the reality of the world around them so concrete they would never imagine the tenuous connection that we share a fishing line that i rely on that i wrap around my fist until it cuts to the bone and i am certain that it cannot be pulled away
but i lose it i grasp desperately to pull it back into the wounds where it fits like that's where it was created to inhabit and when i'm empty when i'm not bleeding from self-inflicted gunshot wounds and razor slices that never seem to fall deep enough to remind me that i'm still alive to spread bloodstains and confirm the strange world around me is actually reality and that i am a part of it
because most of the time i feel like an interloper an alien species and integration is impossible.