I found myself in an empty bowl of cereal

and through the drippings of painted porcelain

I could just make out my tired eyes,

a pair of cracked warping lips

that constantly try to lift their edges.

I checked my teeth in its reflection,

putting pressure on the bicuspids

and felt them loosen in their places.

Self-realization came to me on a full stomach

in a breezy mid-afternoon moment in winter,

with my light blue turtleneck slightly choking me.

I wear my enemies tightly, so when I slowly

peel them off before sleep I can gaze at them

bundled up on a leather chair and let them

snarl at me with their knitted, jutting fangs.

In my dreams I sculpt a wooden army.

They launch themselves around my bed frame

in a blazing halo of splintered protection;

tiny bows, small shouldered rifles, mini cannons

shooting arrows and bullets and cannonballs

into the midnight air in quiet battle.

My body is refusing to wake but everything around me

comes into focus, its neutral colors soaking my eyelids

bathing me in the newness of morning.

A clock is ticking somewhere out there.

12/05/2014

Posted on 12/05/2014
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