Morning zombie

I close my eyes, cast away the pillow that was under me with unneeded amount of force, and tilt my head back. I attempt an escape from reality, a reality that fades into me slowly but never fully appears, like the shadow on a wall of a distant vehicle that whooshes through on a street you can’t see. An imagined world drags over me, a world where my body doesn’t feel like that of a stuffed puppet, only operational at the joints. I fail today and resort to rolling under the pillow again, face tucked under it this time, arms pinning the pillow on both sides, squeezing the pain that shoots out of the top left of my brain, the part that has now turned into a pebble.

An hour passes.

The body is dragged out of bed. I walk through hanging cadavers, flailing about till the eyes can see, in nothing more than a zombie-like state. But the cadavers are inside me. They dangle from the top of my skull, the ones I hung last night through cotton strings. I need an avalanche to dissolve into, to disappear into.