yesterday i woke up and
nothing was in my head. and
i’m talking about
the deep nothing, the
kind where your head thinks in incomplete sentences
and you don’t even care about the dangling modifiers.
so i stayed in bed with the shades drawn
my face illuminated by the screen of my phone.
i scrolled upwards and read ten months of text messages
while the people and things of ten months ago
came flooding into my empty head like cold salty water
into the titanic.
i walked around my apartment and stared at things
like the books whose authors sweat and bled into them
and which sit unread on my shelf. i took time to
the designs on the bottles of liquor, and the bottle of patrón,
hecho a méxico, signed and dated
in black ink with a mexican-human hand.
i recorded myself talking and
i listened to it back and
i didn’t recognize my voice.
i listened to black sabbath and recorded it
then i recorded the recording
until all i heard was static.
i listened to that instead
and it made me laugh.
i refreshed my email inbox for 2 hours.
no one had anything to say
so i took a
yesterday i went to sleep with
nothing in my head, and i said out-
loud, to the air: “i hope i dream.”