There are moments
There are moments
When he thinks
“I might be dead.”
Who would really know
Would he know
Would anybody care
The television is switched off
He stares at it
For hours
Waiting to see if it will turn on
By itself
Telekinesis
For the basket case
He carries a bag
Full of urine
Leaving a trail
As wide as the ocean
It brings to mind
A memory,
Gone before it is fully formed
There are black holes
In the sky
Black holes in the floor
Between the edges
Of reason
Where the madcap laughs
Mind the gap
Last week
He disappeared for
What seemed an eternity
Nobody noticed
He didn’t
Until it was over
There is very little difference
Nothing to choose
Between one state
And the other
Neither deserves
Preferential treatment
From those
Who would see
His brain preserved
In shrinkwrap
Pickled in vinegar
Left on a shelf
To gather moss
Rolled gently
Into the corner
Of a forgotten field
A sepulchre
Of graven images
Brittle words
On faded pages
Going unnoticed
By the passage of days
The changing of
Philosophies
The strangeness of
Life lessons,
He floats blindly
Until a remote hand
Sparks the tube into life
And a worldview floods
Back into his room.