Babylon Function

I’ve taken a year off from existing,
spent that time boiling the impurities out of blood,
and it hasn’t gone all that well.
It left me kind of mute; blank, expressionless, thoughtless.
And I’m only connecting the dots just now.

I think chemistry is a strange little lie
that results in scrambled synapses and restless fits where I smack my veins loose so it’s
probably been a sham from the start– the doctor’s really a kleptomaniac coroner, but it isn’t
necessarily stealing, it’s looting, based purely on the context and whether or not the body’s cold
(lukewarm at best)–

It’s gotten bad again, so bad that
pretending doesn’t work and I lost
myself three rolls ago, which is just my luck,
so I tell them sweet truths
that I don’t believe the
moment they hit the air

“I’ve been sleeping better.”
“I’m no longer afraid of mirrors.”
“No, I don’t feel like hurting myself or others.”
“Yes, I can meet the copay today.”

And on the way home, all I can think
is if California rocket fuel can’t
jump-start my burned-out insides,
how will I get to the moon?