Zombied out, miles up in the sun.
Drive me to the ER. The light glitters,
and nothing is as real as the past.

But not even that, not even that
could touch me now. Inertia as armor,
fear can’t kill what it can’t catch.

Summer figment, blue girl, live mirage 
glistening on the linoleum floors, 
believable momentarily when I whisper 

I’m trying, things are finally getting better.
Just ram your eye here in the kaleidoscope,
slight of my hand, my open mouth, ghost fists

twisting with magic. Drink my snakeoil,
your stake in this fantasy I’ve built on bone
is the only favor that matters to me.

The waiting room is vivid, impressionist.
My multitude of lies calcify into castle walls.
Things will get better. I need you to believe 

just for this moment, and this moment
could last a lifetime. It would not take long.