My Shadow Self

I catch myself wandering the street again.

A pinch to my arm ensures I am lucid.

The dimly lit structures are familiar;

But in this place, most things are forgery.

Each travel to and fro chips away gradually

at my innate sense of time.

The perpetual darkness and vacant lots

trick me into believing that night is present.

But the daylight rays refuse to hide

from the sterile curtains of my room.

I can hear the laughter and chatter

vibrate amongt the whispers of howling wind.

I can feel the rhythmic ticking from the clock

hammering in my head every hour, minute, second.

I can smell the aroma of blooming white lilies,

and their ensuing decay wafting through the air.

I’ve come to appreciate the flimsy nature

of my solitary little world;

Inviting other realities with open arms.

Bestowing glimpses of real life to the lonely

party of one.

I remember a time when my purpose was

so defined. So attainable. Yet so suffocating.

To open the door and be greeted by

faces of my past, present and future.

To catch up on lost time with them and myself.

To find one ounce of light in this ghastly place,

enough to zap me back into the other place.

Edges and angles are becoming out of focus.

Colors are blurring and I’ve forgotten my name.

Artificial light jolts me out of bed.

Warmth from the sun trickles down my face

As a tear escapes from my wandering eye.

The cloudless and endless sky to my right suggests

I am several stories above the ground.

Nameless figures greet me with unadulterated joy,

moving their lips but missing my ears.

A single word floods my conscious mind.

Awake.

Another word joins; I’m awake.

A roomful of people are now in my presence,

And the corners are no longer rounded.

Things are as they should be,

So why am I so eager to close my eyes?

Projections of names I’m beginning to recall

Sit stationary and heavily before my bed.

Some frames- wooden, glass and tinged in dye

block my view from the comforting floor below me,

their flesh replaced with photographs old and new.

Solitude had instilled in me a new outlook.

To cower from unfamiliarity.

To grow tired from idle conversation.

To do anything in my power to return to those

dimly lit structures and vacant streets.

I awakened from my longtime nap,

and my feet had never felt heavier.

I know what I need to do.