strings converge
cross
tangle
i see the pattern
connection after connection
vans park outside
cigarette burns burn anew
the TV is talking about me
every channel
every line
they notice my messy house
engage in my favorite activities
dance with and torment me
i make notes copious and brazen
i hide bits with Susan
bits with Jill
you’re not well
their replies
I’m awake
I’m awake
and upon sleeping again
the journals become those of some foreign hand
restless writing and hiccuped language
graphs and charts of imagination
once
so
clear
muddled
the bug in the fan
no longer needing a sane smile
no longer needing to deceive the ceiling fan
I’m asleep
asleep
both dreading and dress rehearsing
for awakening again
