Relapse

‘Incident on 9th St.’ by Christopher Wool
silver-gelatin print, 8 3/4″ x 13 1/4″, 1997

N°4 (Relapse/Synapse)

Scenario One,
I Sleep.

wake up
twelve hours later
to find that
the last sixty hours
of personal undoing
have been completely
erased,
biochemical
map redrawn,
interface
wiped clean–
the toxic
sebum-clogged
endocrinal
nightmare that
takes hold
every time
this happens,
every time
i close my eyes
and do this–
now no more.

Scenario Two,
I Lie.

lay awake.
let it continue.
twenty-four more hours
just waiting it out
till its end
as somehow
torture pre-destined
makes light of
self-inflicted pain,
made tolerable
in the midst of
a familiar
causal sequence
destructive–
so deeply ingrained
is this undoing
that antivenom
recedes upon impact
of such disarming
familiarity,
cabin fever
as i knowingly
trample on
my own minefield.

Scenario Three,
I Run Away.

make it all end,
weeding out disquiet,
curbing malaise
rooted in
boredom-rooting
malcontent
because somehow
i’ve institutionalized
what it is that
i now cannot describe
and perhaps not worth
going through it again,
even if meaning
i can no longer create
after i lose the
greatest source
of inspiration
i’ve ever had
and start my life without
it all, forgetting it all
only to try to remember
how i began this war with myself.