I zipped the top of my head off
like a box of sardines.
A small man jumped out
that man was me.
The blank page was like a sheet of ice
I skated around
swooping
jumping
spinning
free
My feet, it was amazing,
I couldn’t control my feet.
They were possessed.
Something had taken control of my feet.
It wasn’t me.
The Big Me
top off my head
I just watched it all
And then looked at my hand
which was gripping a clock
gripping so hard that the tips of my fingers
broke the face
jammed the arms
so they stopped.
The sharp arms of the clock
cut into me
and the blood turned black
when it hit the sheet.
Then Little Me
I got the blood on my feet
And danced around
in full out of control
I realized
the marks I was leaving were letters
then words
then lines of this prose
the source of which I did not know.
Little Me tired
and the blood ran dry
so I jumped in my head and
zipped it back closed.
My grip on the clock loosened
a bit
And the hands started moving.
The face healed itself.
I licked my lips and hung it back on the wall
where it watched me
eat a Larabar.
James' Blog 