Build Your Own World

“A beggar handed me this and said to give it to you.”

the issue begins & ends in my head. i wouldn’t call my imagination overactive so much as overeager; i wouldn’t call it my imagination so much as my reprieve. i’m starting to think day- dream is just another way to spell absence. i blink & my nails have been torn jagged. blink again & find myself spitting petals like blood. remember: time is an illusion. don’t worry about the missing days or stalled clocks. we debate existence in physics & i imagine gravity slowly loosening its hold, my atoms unraveling until they dissolve into wind. the unwelcome truth is that awareness feels too much like penance: discordant & guilty. frankly, my dear, i’d rather float away.