All I can tell them is this:
I can see and hear and smell
But I cannot taste or touch;
Nothing seems real,
Although everything seems unusually so;
Sound is muffled but I can understand every word spoken,
While words sung lose their meaning;
All foods taste the same,
Like corn flakes, dry, no milk,
All substances feel like cardboard in the mouth
And chewing is a chore not unlike bowling:
It roars through my head and my arm aches more man my teeth;
Distance is confusing and I cannot read a poster on the wall four feet away
But small print is easy, with or without my glasses;
I can smell a skunk two counties away;
My grasp is only exceeded by the San Andreas Fault line -
Halfof what I hold is lost to the abyss;
I move with leaden tread through molten silver;
And when I wake up from this dream of shimmering, filtered realities
I find that I have not slept at all;
Every muscle aches with each new movement;
The ocean rolls me around the room;
And another day, fogged in, begins.
