Outside of myself.
Walking wide-eyed
through dreamless dream.
I feel the wind
tickle my skin,
I smell the neighbors
breakfast biscuits through
open kitchen windows,
My feet touch
the floor but,
I float, somehow
disconnected, watching me.
Thought and action askew,
the soundtrack in my mind
ever so slightly ahead or perhaps
the day forgot to begin on time.
Two planes of existence
struggling to coincide or
break away.
Discord.
Harmony disrupted.
Separating. Separated.
Separate.

Crystal R. Cook