Allen Qing Yuan

Autumn Slumber

I package myself in
soft, tickling fantasies
shipping myself in comfy covers
for a sensation more than
the five senses can excrete

asleep, I fall into a misty typhoon
an omnidirectional mirror with a blurry reflection

I’m a shark chained to an anchor treading through this sea
ploughing through the starry specks of Atlantis
I look for whatever treasure is invisible
its scent is the blood I seek

As I peel the sore eyelids from my fresh eyes like a new cap off a pickle jar,
like a lemon juice squirting from a lime,
it’s a citrus refreshment for the back of the eyes
the sunlight flares as I shoot my hands upwards

I configure my senses and then
I feel the numbness in my leg*
an anchor that kept me
in this reality

*Since I was 13, I have been suffering from disk problems
which prevent me from moving around like other normal boys.

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