Thieves

Imagine when all you know slides away, the seams of self unraveling, the reason for being somewhere, the rooms of reality shifting with fake walls and no safe corners, ceilings raising and lowering like a nightmare carnival tent, imagine you're the hapless guest today. Receding into pale distances, all your ties to common words and images, what do you need most? Reassurance. Something to count by, or any clue about direction and purpose; you grasp at anything. Mom's sense of her situation is an unyielding spectrum of extremes. Goes from "Leave me alone, nothing wrong, I'm fine." to 
"I don't know what's going on. What am I doing?" 

There is no map back to ourselves. There is no trail to find or even create. Lost in the fast firefalls of thought, connections crisscrossed and scrambled beyond any untangling, imagine how you're the observer now only hanging on to remember.

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