February 16, 2019

Is it just me, or is my carriage heavier,

The horses pulling harder, heaving,

As I struggle not to be drawn apart

From the circus paraders in step

Up ahead, along side, faltering farther behind me?

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Is it just me, or is my countenance lighter,

The fading hue dissolving,

A shade or a wisp the ashy remains

Of the fire that once consumed me

Through lull and din and the droning in-between?

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Is it just me, or are my thoughts denser,

Impenetrable by light, tightened

As a lariat around the neurons

Once producing lucidity and levity

Whether leading lines or finishing lines?

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Is it just me, or is this now just me?