The feeling of pulsing behind the eyes
Being frostbite cold
But warm to everything I touch
A separate form of conscience
The fear of being called out

I focus on the video in front of me
Forgetting entirely about this poem
Dissociate into myself thinking about dissociating into myself
Brother next to me
Talking and speaking about things I don’t understand
I nod and say “yuh” without actually getting it
Too much stimulation
I’m thirsty

Once again I forget about the poem
My life being morphed into one stream of consciousness
Yearn to go outside
Reset the timer
Stare at the smoky sky

Unconscious
Walls full of teeth
Moss over my eyes
Vines of my ears
Webs over my mouth
And sand over my tastebuds

3 hours later now
Time to restart the cycle