Alexander Bryant


You wake and there is something wrong with the world
As there is every day.
Your life is nowhere.

You buy but it doesn’t help.
You travel but have to come back,
Have to always come back.
There are children, but you watch with unease
As they grow into what you have become.
You wanted them to be normal
And after all,
After everything,
They are heart-breakingly normal.

Every once in a while you catch a glimpse of something else:
A rush of speed,
The ding of comprehension,
Music that plays your chords.
Reality offers a look behind the curtain.

The curtain flutters.
The curtain settles back.
Is this all we are?


It is worse than you think.

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