Severed Synapse

I wear myself inside out. My mask is hidden; my thoughts scriven mysteriously in code.  Sleep returns me to my origins.  I fall, resisting, afraid to let go.

I get up and it’s yesterday, dreary and inexact. Memories come together and instantly fall apart.  I am unbuttoned from the brain down.

All those rituals, the names and places, surrounding me lost and confused. No one can count them.  No one can say when or how they disappeared.

completely unfilled,
outlines stand centered between
never and not now

For Colleen’s Tanka Tuesday, a haibun using synonyms for sad and write. The top artwork is actually part of the stitching for a totally different project.  It’s done on iridescent plastic paper, and the scan makes it look brain-like I think.  The collage above I did awhile ago, but it also seemed to fit.

The mind is a delicate balancing act, always.