'Obfuscation...'

obsessing, regressing for days
sitting on the edge of my seat - attention wanders
notions pondered

I watch the earth move the sky
and I remain motionless

I try to respond when my name is called
but I no longer relate who I am to me
and so, again, I am silent

obsessing, regressing for days
lackluster repetition dulls my mind
yet sharpens my senses as the horror, revulsion -
reviled -
seeks me in sleep
asphyxiated resolve and determination
that vulnerability belies...

I watch leaves fall and winds blow
and I feel none of it

hiding away under layers of
wool and flannel, cotton and polyester
holding together a material existence
(threaded and woven with puce and burnished red
the hues of knitted wounds and scars -
vibrant in the most horrid way)

breathing only filtered air
sheltered where
only in dreams I can touch the night

...because in real life,
everything
can't be real.