#forget you

I can only hope that I have enough strength to let you stay dead.

When I woke up I felt my head pounding violently. My face was red from all the blood rushing in my brain. I look all around me. Silence. Nothing. Zilch. If it’s just me alone, who was calling my name? What happened those nights ago? It didn’t matter. The important question was where was I. Looked at my left. Static. I’m not talking about blurry, I mean actual static, like an unplugged vintage CRT television. Looked at the right. a small stage with a brown reflective floor, two rows consisting of four yellow spotlights each and an ochre yellow pedestal. What seems to be an Indian head test pattern can be seen on a beige wall. Except for the frequency bars, all the elements in the head test pattern are motionless. But that isn’t all. I’m different too. dark brown neatly combed hair (which I could have sworn was a mess of locks those nights ago.). Dressed all fancy like I’m ready for a event or some shit. a burgundy suit with black edges and trims, light orange long sleeved undershirt with a small cyan bow tie, a cyan handkerchief in my breast pocket of my coat, black slacks, orange socks, and burgundy dress shoes. What makes matters worse is the fact I barely recall anything from the night before I arrived here. What the actual shit. Help me?

- Lyn Lifshin