you're welcome to keep this

vomit cadavers strewn all over
past the edge of the curtains
in my mind every curtain is the color of a heartbeat

arms flailing fingers grasping at the ceiling
like inflatable hoses
and a thick layer of slime coating
everything pink like frosting
the teeth seemed to be
hiding somewhere
there were none left
perhaps a new head was being assembled just out of sight

if in fact it was i assumed
it was now to follow me around town
for the rest of my days
accusing black eyes
a nose turned up at an
unnatural angle
the hacked together teeth grinding against each other

but the truth was
i had no memory of it
no memories left at all
only a few dreams that couldn't possibly
have belonged to me
they didn't match what remained

i knew from photographs
that there was a strange young man
who looked like a son i would've had
and i remembered the night in question as a story he might tell

but i'd never had a son
or known anyone who looked like me except me

only a certain mood could set me in touch with that stranger
a certain level of otherness
accessible through
disciplined alchemy

then it was like I'd been asleep for a decade
and suddenly awoke as this
old man
who would at any moment retake possession of his body
once the elixir wore off

what could i do with these few moments of
befuddled consciousness
except nothing

Now let me slip back into whatever dream I was having please thank you.
You're welcome to keep this withered shell.
If you like.