Shitbowl

They dropped me in the shit
and let me swim around,
a goldfish in your toilet bowl,
don’t flush me, don’t forget me,
don’t forsake me for fuck’s sake,
it would hurt my hand to write but it hurts my mind
to write this,
I’ve forgotten how to write, to type, to spell,
boil, boll, bowl,
I’ve forgotten how to be forsaken,
went straight to humble in a handbasket
held by someone, you, giving me the middle finger,
I don’t want to think of my memories, I don’t want new ones,
I just want this moment, here, now,
swimming and slimming in the shit

A feeling of disconnect, faint little flickers, like a radio signal popping in every so often. When it connects, I can feel it ricochet all about, a muted jolt, sending me awash. And then it subsides, and the dream picks up where it leapt off.

 

I can stare down old pictures and fill myself with song. I can send emails to glasses half full, but I can't send myself back in one piece, unopened, a gift to those who gave me everything. Home, the fainter it becomes, the stronger its fragments are, shining like stars, making up the only universe I know.

 

I don't know the way back or the way out. I don't know how I make these decisions in the dark, in this great, big swamp of mist and fog. Silence on the inside, and dewdrops on the outside of the car.

 

I feel can't feel clearly, I wish I had a guide I could go out and buy, like one of those yellow "for idiots" books. I would check out a whole library of them, and take the secrets to my grave, like those before me, and those before me.

 

Mountains of pressure held behind a cloud, held amidst a blue sky. What a wonderful facade it all is. The dream shall never die.