drive a knife into my hand
and I couldn’t tell you
if the blade
was sharp or dull,

if the pain hurt
or just sat there
existing,

if you should stop
or just go ahead
and try
again.

look into my eyes
and I couldn’t tell you
if I was looking back.

my mind is drowning
(nearly blacked-out now)
and everything’s deafened
(both the good and the
bad).

I can’t see and
I can’t hear and
for all I know that hand
you just stabbed could be mine
or yours or someone else’s
entirely.

please,
wake me up.
the knife didn’t work.

this afternoon,
I could’ve walked forever
down the streets of Athens, Georgia
soaking up the rays of the sun
as I finally felt at peace with
myself.

the skies turned gray
so I turned into bed
and laid down
with some soft music playing
that told me stories of anger
and hatred and love
and let myself drift into sleep
and listen to the same song
twice, three times, over
again.

when I awoke
it was for first time in months.
my eyes wide open, looking out
at the sky who had turned blue
again.

too late
I realized what had happened,
when I heard the same melodies
flow into my ears over and over
and I wondered if I should drift
back into comforting sleep
again.

this time though,
I knew my mistake
and I would not be making it
again.

Thomas told me
at the end of our conversation
about the improv club,
about how serious we should be
with following the classic training,
about whether we should try to do it right
or just do it the way we feel,
that I should just try
to have some fun
and then suddenly
I realized we weren’t talking
about the club
any longer.

I stand dazzled,
like a child,
at the brilliance of the world.

but,
I have never been
so stumbled before.

this is odd, concerning.
what now is different
that has left me
so crippled?

what has changed?
the world
or I?

are things brighter
or is my vision
darker?

though I cannot see
I can make out
those around me
moving away
further each moment
so far
I cannot even hear their voices
laughing and talking
and enjoying life

and just a few questions
run through my panicked mind
like horses through a battlefield
screaming,
“where are they going?”
“what is going on?”
“where am I?”
“who am I?”

“why is this happening?”

but the world cannot reply,
for the answers were never
within her.

I surely did my worst
when I arrived at this place
full of opportunity
and then sat around
and enjoyed
none of it.

not here,
in the present time
in my present place

I am elsewhere
in some other place
with some other people
doing other things
that are not the things
I am actually
doing

and if I am not here
and there does not exist
where am I?

what is fantasy?
and what is
reality?

what,
and better yet
who
really exists?

and where do I
fit into all that?

where do I exist?