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.