What Am I When I Am Not Me...

they're not nightmares
anymore
and i should think that would make a difference
but it doesn't
my dreams are a plague
infecting every part of me
every vessel, every organ
every nerve and every cell
every night

a Wonka riverboat ride down the rabbit hole into Madness
and mixed metaphors
a kaleidoscopic psychic calliope

of psychedelic psychosis

i remember when dreams used to comfort
bring relief and restitution
or delightful reminiscence
or strange beauty
but my dreams are now a plague
they exhaust me
all vivid surreal visions
          of mundane interactions

with a world I do not recognize
that feels uncomfortably
intimately
Familiar

waking in those peaceful hours of pre- and post-dawn
that peace is lost on me
lying there, almost paralyzed
i do not remember my dreams
so much as i
Recover from them