8hz

it was past midnight
the sky filled with UFOs
i’d lost my camera

mosquito bitten

sun-burnt and dehydrated

we trudge through the swamp

banished as a child

a world inside a painting

slowly rots away

on the radio

you struggle reading adverts

wordplay falling flat

i’m a shape-shifter
i take the form of a bear
no one is impressed

memories rattle
at the bottom of my lungs
i know what i am

having faith in doubt
all metaphysical thought
stems from fear of death

i can time-travel

…i guess its ‘hibernating’

it really works though

my gun misfires

scorch-marks lash across my hands

i hear rabbits laugh

twitching a twitcher

the birds subscribe to the feed

nature’s ‘like’ button

a confrontation

standing up or staying out

weighing up the cost

some minutes later
i notice i’m on fire
the rain never comes

is the waking world any less confusing?