Ants are crawling every which way in my calves, and my ankles, and my feet, and my toes.
Waterfalls dam up and I fear that they are going to overflow onto the couch,
where I am seated in my mountain chain throne, crumbling apart.
It hurts to move, so I don't. I wait for the bugs to scatter,
for the waves to calm, for rocks to stop feeling
like feather beds made of silk, or
maybe it's the fact that
my bones are
marble pillars that do
not know that they are hallow.
Either way, my body is stuck here, wallowing
in the confines of my mind which keeps on repeating that
I have no where to go, no where to be, and no one to be with at all.
It's kind of reassuring that you don't have to feel when you are made of the
universe, for the universe does all of the feeling for you. If only it would tell that to my body.