No foxes visit me at the dead of the night.
I am alone and dreamless
Disintegrating in my own mind
All over the room, in shards.
I spill across my skin.
The empty space that my body occupied
Seems too oppressive to contain.
I transcend above it.
Only to bump at the ceiling,
Like a helium balloon from a postmodern childhood.
Outside, the world bleeds itself to death.
I stand near my window and try to pick up sirens.
Revolutions come and go.
Jodie says that the line between a visionary and a fool is a thin one
and I had better be one or the other.
But I don’t believe it.
I am only a cynic
Trapped in ambiguity, I can’t decide which side to fight on.
I’ll never leave the house, anyway.
I have lost my mind in stagnation, they wouldn’t let me out of
the patterns in the wallpaper.
I am a cynic
Dwelling in ambiguity
and disintegrating in my mind
in shards of yellow rose all across the room.