It came upon me like a shadow

and the whispers that followed said,


"Delirium -- thank God." Thank God:

it was only delirium. No;


it wasn't.

It was the music –


I needed to hear the music,

to hear even the water on the stove sing


as it boiled.

The pause between songs


drove me into a terrible, disjointed synchronicity;

an endless question:


how long was I able to suffer?



I am


breathless --

slow to be quick,


and I can't control the way

my mind likes to wander


while I methodically embed myself

into the notes I hear,


but if you ask me

for the meaning of my life,


I can smile.



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