Monday, January 16, 2012

That's okay as long as I am lost

It was cold this afternoon
when little orange cat greeted me
by running over lawns he'd
annexed as his own, past sinking bushes
reminded of the sinking roads of my memory--
I think of dying everyday or if I'm swirling in
my own aged mind at the end of my
life, seeing illusions I can't break out of,
listing back and forth between consciousness
and unreality, untethered.

Am I living in the past
dreaming of you?

I fear I am.

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