In my feverish state I find myself
Reaching out, trying to sew together
The past and future, the present with self.
Arms wrap around me although I can't tell
If they are his, my mom's, or even God's.
But does it really even matter when
They serve the same purpose and provide love?
Whispers in my mind, is that you conscience?
But the past is past and I'm far too sick
To motivate myself to do more harm.
There is pounding pressure behind my eyes
And dust mites turn into swirling snowflakes
That set me aflame when they make contact.
Time is meaningless in this rabbit hole
So I wander with Alice for a bit
Trusting the Cheshire Cat and Mad Hatter
To keep us safe along the way.
Soon that ends and I start choking on air
Dense with regrets, obligations, and fear.
There is no end to this ****** inferno.
I can only hope my mind fades to black
For a time before this repeats itself.