Just the Cat's Pyjamas

This isn't real. None of this is real.  These memories aren't mine. Who put them in my head? Why are they here? How did they get here? Who owns these memories? A pulse of electrical energy. A spark. It pulses again. A pulse. My pulse. Tick. Tick tick. Tick tick tick. The tick tick ticking of the veins across my feeble hands catches my attention for a moment.  My hands? Are these my hands? They seem alien, and somehow foreign. This isn't real. None of it. It's not real. None of it is real. I woke up this morning in this body. This form. This frame. This fat sallow skin. Is this my body? Do I belong in this sad sack of meat and muscle and electricity? I woke up this morning inside this body. Is it mine? None of it seems familiar. It's all so alien and strange. Is this my life? Do I know these people? Are these my thoughts? Are these my memories? My habits and routines? Where did all this mess in my brain come from, exactly? Who put this in my head? None of it is famil...

I hear the whirring of cogs and gears as my mind begins to buzz and hum with that eternally raging manic energy that I have missed so much. Breathe deeply. Inhale. Exhale. Breathe deeply. No. Deeper. The thoughts rush in like a torrent. I am underwater. I am drowning. No sign of land. No sign of land. Is this real? Is any of this real? The sky mustard gray, as the filthy earth shifts beneath my frame. This world will burn one day. The sun, old and tired, will spread out past the moon, and set this world on fire. The moon. My sister the moon. Cold and lonely. Hidden from the sun. She hangs silently, the guardian of the night. Silver glittering stars hum to her. Their song crackles on the cool night breeze. The Earth. My mother the Earth. I was born of her, I suckled at her breast. Rain washes her, freeing her of the day's dust and filth. Sweet Mother Earth. Sing to me. Hum a soft sad tune. The hills whisper my name, calling me to live among them. Free, like a wild beast, naked and u...