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.