Who Am I?

When I was little, I played this Game,

I walked to school and imagined that Nothing was Real.

Or Was It?

I Imagined that the Concrete of the Streets was Liquid,

That I could Walk through Walls if I wanted to,

That All Matter was an Illusion,

That My Eyes Told Me Lies of Reality — Make-Believe

Do I Exist?

Or was I an Illusion, too? Just an Idea?

A Thought of No—Being

Who is this Face that I see in the Mirror? Whose Name are they calling?

If I Hold My Breath Long Enough, Am I Going To Die?

I practiced in the pool — Submerged in Water, Waiting to Float to the Surface as a Corpse,

But I came up Gasping for Air -

Nothing Changed except for the Dead Leaves, which were Brittle, and Dust

Would they Cry for me at my funeral? Would I still Hear them?

Oh, Silly Child, Go On Now.

I still Wonder how it would be Outside my Body —

So I Sleep with my Eyes Wide Open