Post Conscious

(Based on an encounter)

You can’t move.
You can’t speak.
I don’t think you can see.
I wish I didn’t think you can feel.
But I know you can feel.

There you are sitting on what will be your chair for the rest of your life.

I don’t know how long that is and then my mind wanders down that way. I know it’s not today, tomorrow, this year or next year. When I think about it, it seems like a burden. It is true.

Somewhere in the future and distant.

Sometimes I feel I am there and I am looking at myself from above. Sometimes I feel I am myself and feel my pain. That pain is you.
Or I think you feel pain and I try to feel what you feel.
That itself hurts.

Then I think about what I would do if this is true.

At that moment,
I back away from this keyhole I peer through.
I look away very abruptly as if I had just seen something violent.

Now I’m here again and I look at you and the thought I just had.

I stand up and leave.