by themapofantarctica

I wake. Recently my dreams are more tangible than my days. My thoughts are more physical than my body. Everything has disappeared. I hold out my hand beneath the tap in the bathroom but the water passes through my fingers. Nothing collects. Nothing gathers and everything is left in disarray, without association. I look around my bedroom and see a boat, a kettle, a deer. I struggle but find no connection between the three. The deer looks back at me. Tilts its head as if trying to understand something. I go downstairs and make toast. The sink is full of fish. Mackerel with stripey backs. Their eyes gape hollowly at the ceiling. I spread the butter thickly and bite down. The clock says ten past eight. I pull on my coat and the lion roars on the stairs. Opening the front door I see it is snowing. I step outside, shake off the night. I do not notice the spider’s thread attached to the back of my neck keeping me connected to the house.