Null-space
Can’t feel my face.
It comes without warning,
This feeling I’m falling.
Limbs flailing for purchase,
I clutch at constraints
Of movement
In this folding system.
It’s all too much.
Cognition ducks
Into witness protection.
A firewall for the kernel
Of consciousness.
So viral news is futile stimulus.
With no place left to go,
Reality and I are
Locked in asymptotic dance.
For all our sakes,
We only meet
Through the looking glass.
My nerves seethe
As I descend
Below light’s refraction.
I need air but dare not
Open my mouth.
Somewhere beyond recall,
In elision’s hooded hall,
The furnaces are melting;
Great leaders spew slag.
I cannot process this noise;
Unplug my volatile memory.
That I may wipe and come up,
Learning to cope.
Delivered from the frenzy,
My circuits all burnt out.
Maybe I want to scream
But nothing will come out.
At last, adrift in the night,
I look up to muted sky:
What stars provide their bearing?
Is anyone in hearing?
Somaiah Kambiranda is a gardener.
Featured image credit: Pariplab Chakraborty