soround sofull sowide soflat contains mybrain mysoul myeyes mynose myears mymouth
so fat: mythoughts
gotsmacked sohard myhead sawspots and onlyholes wherewords oncelived where
language
breathed
nowcavities
gape
theback of myhead above thenape of myneck. can'tcheck. can'tsee. a mystery to wake upstaring at thesky calling "anyonethere" existentially
myname begins andstarts with"A" ithink aboutthat nightandday.(AmnesiaAphrodesia. WhoAmIandWhatAmIDoingHere) AnnoyingAndAwesome AllAlone, annoyingawesome or awesomelyannoying: Ithink ofwords
thatI coulduse to
legitimize
my personalviews, theway iam theway iwas theway iwrite atnight
because
i'mscared wheni wakeup i'llbe somethingmuchless thanonce wasme.
smacking
yourhead isclose to obscene,only beat bymeetinga
guillotine/CUT
2 comments:
(Technical fail, but that's sort of the point.)
I like the word play here (despite the not-so-playful subject) and the reconfiguration of language. (I have some second-hand experience with serious concussion so the idea that language/story/body can shift and recombine in this way that's both familiar and totally new feels right.)
Also, I have to say: good on you for taking this on during your recovery. MayDay is so challenging at the very best of times!
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