I Lose Track

Schizo spike, my baseline 
Marked down by no one
The nurse another day player, 
I suspect, a bit part but 
at least a speaking role 
A volunteer, I bet, nobody paying them 

Don't feel sick anymore but 
I keep my appointments 
Never a bad time for 
a check up, I imagine 
Don't feel anything that stays 
long enough to grab onto 
I lose track of time looking 
at nothing particular through windows 

I'm cycling through, pretending 
any of the pieces fit together 
I'm buffering buffering buffering 
A looping video of myself 
Replaying to myself 
Tired of talking about myself 
Answering questions about myself 
without hearing myself 
Forgetting the answers before they 
finish scratching them down 
on their clipboards 

I tell the lady they cast as my doctor today 
my symptoms include not being sure 
what counts as a symptom 
or why I made this appointment 
to begin with 
or how I got here or if I'm 
still in my body 
She presses her stethoscope to my chest 
and I can tell she's never used one before 
Still I try to believe when she 
assures me I don't sound hollow 

My leg doesn't kick when she 
whacks my knee with her little hammer 
Her face suddenly haggard, she whispers 
close to my ear that the script 
clearly calls for a kick 
Her hammer comes down again 
Another whack, this one meaner 
I just sigh, can't seem to oblige her
Feel disconnected from my limbs 

"Poor circulation!" she ad libs 
glowering at me for not knowing my part 
while I wonder if I have any part 
on my odd angled body 
that's actually me 
She's a bad actor, as per usual
but nowhere else has ever heard 
of my off brand insurance 
so, as per usual, I suspend disbelief 
and gamely play along 

"You seem ok" she says as 
she shakes my hand 
"You could go anytime" she says 
to my back as I'm leaving 
"Are you being funny?" I ask, 
turning back around 
She's dressed in a gown now and 
says no one's allowed in her room 

I go, not quite making sense of it 
Making even less sense to myself 
Deciding sense can't even 
adhere to me anymore 
which makes as much sense as 
most anything else 

I get into bed, turn the key in the ignition 
Only briefly hallucinating 
being transported by gurney 
Trying to remember how to 
find a single road out of here 
Not once hallucinating that the
key is my thumb