Email Poem

Your IP Address: 216.73.216.16
Your Email Address:
To Email Address:
Subject
Personal Note:
Poem Title:
Poem
Dredging (9/24/19)

I’ve considered putting my hair
Into a ponytail when I’m sleeping
Because my hair not soft against my
Cheek and gets in my eyes and is
Hot. I’ve also considered getting
Another better-paying job. Both
Have ended with the same result.

I’ve awareness of my surroundings,
But I’m in open space. Maybe it’s
A cruel experiment: after several
Days I’ll be reunited with reality and
They’ll see if I truly do still retain
General awareness. It’s all white
As of right now. Will I understand
Color if it returns?

It all started in November of 2017.
I didn’t have fourteen dollars to get
A haircut. Then I met a girl who
Liked my hair longer, so I let it grow.
Now my curls descend beyond my
Shoulders and I like it. I’ve broken
Up with this girl since; I guess, I do
Admit, not cutting it is partly laziness.

I wonder who the control was in this
Experiment. I wonder if my memory 
Has been wiped and restructured to
Their liking. I wonder if I am absolutely
Nothing and my brain is conjuring up
Fake scenarios for me to call my own,
To give me a sense of life. I wonder
Where the scientists are. I wonder if
There are even any scientists at all, or
If I have fallen into a strange hole that
Tricks me into thinking things.

I had a bad habit back then—I say
“Back then” as if I have gained an
Exorbitant amount of knowledge, but
I can at least say the habit is breaking—
Where I struggled to talk to those
Significant to me about important
Problems, and instead kept to myself.
So while, yes, I may have cheated, in
A way, I did what I would have done
If I had said I no longer wanted to be
With her. I just didn’t have to courage
To tell. That’s a sorry excuse.

I can’t exactly feel my hair anymore,
And I don’t know if that makes sense
Or not. It’s simply a part of me, I
Think. I’m floating. I don’t wear shirts,
I just wear the shirt. I don’t wear shoes,
I just wear the pair of shoes. I don’t
Comb my hair, I just comb the hair.
And I couldn’t believe it, but it all
Happened again. I looked at someone
Else and I did it again, I couldn’t bring
Myself to look at myself anymore.
Because I’d done it again, and then
I fell in here, the place where I have
Awareness, but nothing I can make
Myself aware of is here. My eyes are
Twitching, trying to focus—and this
Time I can promise I’m trying to focus—
And I wonder who is watching me.
CAPTCHA Preview
Type the characters you see in the picture
Required