The Waking Edge


Things fade

along the edges.

The closer I come.

to clarity,

the faster it burns.


light pollution,

photon poisoning.

Waking up in a state

of terrified

and total confusion.

One foot still in the dream,

the other off the bed,

looking for the floor,

getting ready to run.

Calm down,

it is just a bad dream.

Shake it off,

hit the shower,

have coffee.

Trapped in a subroutine,

where I’m repeatedly waking up

from the same dream

over and over again.

Starting to think

I’m not waking up at all.

I’m in a closed loop of days.

A mobius strip of consciousness.

Faded edges.

Scorched memories.

These things become

tiles in the foyer

of the entrance

to my broken down

memory palace.

I’m not afraid

to admit

these corridors go nowhere.

Just waking up,

falling asleep,

but not waking up,

and not really sleeping.

Only phantom interludes

before the whole thing

repeats itself.

It could be.

that I’m feeling a defined edge.

One thing that doesn’t fade,

or burn when I approach it.


there’s something here.

I think.

I’m waking up again.



DJR – 2023

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