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Dali Clocks
Virgin walls and stuffy air
vex my every sense.
The foundation that supports
my feeble body remains cold and alien.
Inescapable sanity impairs
my restless imagination.
“You will be back to normal in no time.”
The hands cease to remind me,
of the hour,
of the day,
of my sustenance.
I fashion a straight jacket of ivory sheets
and automatic springs.
My perceptibility slips further into
canvas walls, of which have become my scenery.
“You will be back to normal in no time.”
No time.
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