Song for the Somnambulist
III
My loose limbs are reanimated.
My sleeping corpse becomes an undying stranger
In the amnesiac world
Familiar to me,
But so foreign to another.
I slipped through the hallways
Trying to find
Something—
Of what I'm not sure.
There has to be something
Somewhere,
But where?
My eyes are open,
But dull and glazed,
Coated with the pearly enamel
Of vagrant expression.
Saliva drips from my lips;
I'm lobotomized, stalking
The missing foot prints of my steps,
The vanished indent of reticent yearning.
In a hypnotic frenzy,
I scale the walls,
Climbing to an alien plane—
Away—
Away from the estrangement of hallucinations.
A storm rages outside
And I'm unfastened
From the knotting braid
That should bind the detached pieces of myself
Together.
I'm not entirely there.
I'm not entirely cognizant
Of where I am,
Of where I roam
Aimlessly and claustrophobically
Captured inside
The hollow shell
I call myself.
I want to find something else,
Something good,
Something that will rattle my consciousness
As I, like a submarine, dive deep, sinking
Into the fantasy that resides
Within my realms of reality.