When I awake in the day, all is blank.
Pills, shower, school, work; a common routine, but one easily forgotten when you cannot differentiate between here and now.
Walking through the mall, wondering if I tumble over the rail in a haze of blood and screaming will I finally see stars again.
What a silly though; so instead, The hairs on my head are steadily ripped out in between my dull fingernails and wisp away to the ground.
Soon it leads to forgetting how to drive, to brush my teeth to speak.
Standing idly by while the world turns and twists and gravity keeps me grounded, but my brain is in another dimension, as an imaginary deity I cannot keep believing in.
Voices, fingertips, the trees and leaves all have it out for me, touching me and surrounding me until I collapse, into the street somewhere, late at night after the cars and people have all long since fallen under.
Did I sleep through work? Or did I even sleep?
Did I remember to eat today?
Slowly turning black, staring in the mirror with the lights off and I am in hell when I turn them on.
How many hours does one ever recall?
Thousands, some say, but what hours do we choose to hold?
Psychosis grips me like an angry father scolding his young child, topples me over like the Tower of Babylon, entangles me in an ocean of disconnection that ends with me coming back to the surface by banging my head on the door and punching picture frames.
When I crash my car into the ditch down the street and I feel blood trickle into my eye from the windshield kissing my head, I am not shocked, I don't even remember how I got there.
When I drown in cheap whisky and prescription pills, I fear not for my fate because I have forgotten I even have one.
When my lungs burn with harsh smoke of unfiltered cigarettes, I don't cringe, for my lungs only know to inhale the harm, and not breathe.
I don't know when I will remember to live. But I hope it is before I die.
