Sometimes there are dreams
Where the plot is forgotten
And insignificant details are remembered.
Like that dream
Where there were elevators in Chicago,
Elevators that were broken down
Elevators that took me to new heights,
In a hotel
Where I could see through the glass
of the elevator I stood in.
Except it wasn’t glass.
It was like shredded cardboard.
And it was creaking
under my heavy weight.
And the shrieking noise it made
Pulled the demons I had inside of me
To the surface.
I couldn’t remember what I was doing.
Or what the purpose of my existence was.
It was like I was swimming in a sea
Of seventy shades of forgetfulness.
But all I knew of the world around me
Was that among all the drab offices,
And whitewashed walls,
And different people,
I had forgotten something.
And the elevators frightened me.
And my mouth told lies.
And I went up and down
trying to find my mission.
But all I found
were the faces of the forgotten.
Maybe one or two that I knew.
But I was lost in this giant world
Where I knew no one
And but few knew me.
I had a mission
But I forgot what it was.
Passiveness
Became a part of me
Although it was unwanted.
And even though I knew I did something
I didn't know or remember
What it was that happened.
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