on immobility

    'You know what I've come to think, Jake? I think you don't even exist at all. There's too many of you. It's more than just masks that you put on and take off--we all have masks. But you're different all the way through, every time. You cancel yourself out. You're more like somebody in a dream. You're not strong and you're not weak. You're nothing.'

     I thought it appropriate to say nothing, since I did not exist.

-End of the Road, John Barth

the old refrain. my daydreams play out like films. no audio, low light. we're cast in shadows in the amber light of sunset. i just want you to hold my hand while i lie fetal on the floor, pillow over my head. my hair radiating outward, unintentional symmetry. hip bones pressed into the unforgiving wood. my mouth works no longer and i'll spell out my words on the hand that is not gripping yours.

that scene on repeat. again and again. i do not know what comes next; i have lost the script.

i said too many hurtful things last night. i did that which i am too fragile for. it was easier than saying no, than trying to explain why.

i have had my head under the pillow all day and been spelling words to myself. but where are you? will you not hold my hand in this silence? or are you just part of the daydream too?