A dust storm told me to hang in there
A spilling cloud said, “I have plenty to spare.”
A finite mind thought there is a world to know
While lacking the understanding
To understand what it thought.
My hallucinations apologized with a lament
That his hallucinations are back
As he stumbled away to void his bowel
To toss back a pill to medicate me away.
My hallucination returned to dictate his hallucination
Into a voice recorder for later psychological review.
“why can’t he do me the favor of hating me.”
Click. Pause. Click, “he looks more vivid this time.
Bronzy blonde hair, his vaguely cauliflowered ear,
His thumb print dimpled chin."