Kitchen

Filled with the feeling my mind is being sluiced, I
Whip looks around, to reattatch when I drift;
It's not to a strange place, well, strange in its
vagueness.
Ha ha, a bad decision, I spend minutes that hurt like
Hours aflame, cooling with water, then,
demented, drowning, staring, listening,
zoning out I disassemble, only to be
Roughly maligned back 'here', and I have to participate?
...

I swim, sweating in emerald light, muddling and
confused. I dare not seek, much less wander, I can only
pace and ponder the meaning of an extra 'S'; that is
my anchor, to make her laugh is sweet blathering ease,
the courage is raised, I venture North into grey,
Complacent! I. Shudder. Too. Cold. Oh.
Too gone to make the switch, I
retreat back... Oh
it has set me back years... I must
retrace.
The aliens approach. I sink.