Something insubstantial

 

And as I open the fridge door

I think...

Wait, what am I here for?

A spiritual question

or a moment of realisation that

I hadn't yet reached my potential?

A chill hits me. Shivering

through my spine.

I'm sure, a moment ago,

I was planning something

Something, something...

insubstantial. A memory waterfall

As all I see is white cold walls,

And mostly empty shelves.

 

But now my mind

is spawning galaxies

out of leftover ham and

a few loose triangles of cheese -

a Coke bottle rocket

to propel us to better things.

 

It's all flying away from me.

I see myself from outside in,

Every atom bursting -

a supernova of possibilty,

but the synapses not connecting.

Unwritten memory dripping away

like the leaking faucet behind me.

 

Drip

    Tick

Drip

    Tick

 

Pooling into a puddle of unlived days before

Swirling down the drain, to become one

with all the other memories

 

But I'm transfixed

by the cold, empty nothingness.

 

Why am I here?

What purpose does this serve?

Does a sandwich work

without bread?

Or is that just ingredients

on a plate?

Wait...

I came in here for a cup of tea.

Why am I standing looking at this galaxy?

 

I feel the spin of the earth,

and a coldness to my heart

as I realise as soon as I close the door,

my light will go out.

But if I stay here worrying

about a set of ingredients

I don’t have, then my tea will

get cold like my heart