Once Was, but Now
How long I have been lying here in my own filth? I cannot remember how many times, if at all, I have called for help. I do not know what time it is, what day or year even. I want to go home but someone else lives there now and would not let me in.
As I stare helpless at the bland ceiling my mind is not empty, just full of holes. Frightening blank spaces and a blur of terrifying indistinct shapes of uncertain scale and meaning; but further back it is as if a lens has been twisted. Things come into sharp focus, vivid, things I did not realize I had forgotten. These memories are tangible, thought and feeling are still as one. I can still remember something of the person.
