beyond the green: collective of middlebury voices

a student-run publication that seeks to provide space for voices that are not being heard on our campus. we are grounded by politics that are radical, anti-racist, anti-sexist, anti-classist, anti-homophobic, anti-ableist, and anti-transphobic (against all forms of oppression) and that reject the structural neo-liberal paradigm that characterizes middlebury college and its official publications

I keep waking up again and again, Though I never fall asleep.

The Universal Game (a dream has no wind) Though it’s hot, the silence chills And slick sweat starts to slip along my back, Dragging dirt and salt over ribs, like flooded Ripples in the sand. Panic grins at me and squirms down into my stomach, Where it twists and yanks what I take for granted out of place. This again. Nauseating. Embryonic. Parasitic. Stuck in my gut, A rut without reason. Insanity is aloneness. Because When the world moves past me I am the projector and the screen is empty. Here and now, dust sifts through my toes, Curling into honey-thick air, but now, Here and now is water streaming down my ankles, Soapy residue pooling under my arches. Grey drainage. I might already be dead. Time is a tricky kind of madness. I keep waking up again and again, Though I never fall asleep. A masochistic prank. The big bang plays hide And seek with itself behind layers of my clothes. I know I am alone, because I took the damn red pill and The matrix is me. This hell is a tunnel the color of fear. So it’s back. I remembered the universal game That I am playing. Ants fall into lines of bodies along my rubber Soles, but there is only one eye in the dust. Not chains of paper Glued at highland elementary school room 65. No mommy and Daddy to teach neat tricks. No container, and no Explanation. Just fucked and alone. If you don’t understand Me, thank God And stop digging, because you might just Fall through your hole, Like me. Bottomless. As the game plays on, I am afraid of only one thing, And that’s my mind. Because I am existence, stuck inside of itself, Beating the sky, my own skin. Screaming to escape, but where? This place is a circle. And there is nowhere To run. This is what they mean by hell. I am god. Give me an easier game, I pray, But there is none.

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This entry was posted on January 31, 2014 by in Mental Health and tagged .
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