A.M. – The Morning Poem

I lie motionless in bed.

I’m there but I am not.

I count the popcorn on the ceiling for the last time, I say to myself.

I clench my throbbing temples attempting to weather the hurricane of guilty intrusive thoughts that storm my mind with no probable cause.

I question the existence of every inanimate object in the room.

Disturbing visions and memories raid and haunt my phaneron in the form of hindsight.

The highlight reel of shame and constant regret, is stuck on repeat with a volume that increases, matching the background noise of despair.

It’s deafening.

The sick feeling of solipsism makes the darkness above my head cast a larger shadow, dimming the room and blurring my vision.

I stare at the ceiling and ponder my real identity, as I do not feel organic.

My head, filled with helium seemed to be attached to my body with Velcro before separating; forever floating above and apart from my body.

My head gets stuck in the corner of the ceiling near the popcorn.

I can see my body below.

I signal my left hand, and struggle to loosen the eagle talon that violently clutches my heart.

Dawn breaks and I somehow reattach my head to my battered body.

I silence the alarm clock.

A.M.

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