Psychosis
I appear in the kitchen.
My mom is smiling.
How am I doing, -ing, -ing?
Ring, ringing, -ing.
My phone is crazy, so I drop it somewhere I’ll never find it.
Something is cooking.
Something, but not me.
I appear out of the kitchen.
I look into the kitchen as if it’s a painting,
-ing, -ing, thinking, -ing, -ing…
The cooking is crazy, and bubbling, and burning, so I run.
Cooking, -ing, -ing,
Ringing.
My mom asks how I’m do-ing,
Static-we’re breaking up.
Burning, I’m burning up!
The trance burns up.
I put out the flames.
So no dinner tonight.
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