Monday, April 4, 2011

chameleon

Do not look in the mirror because if you do, you will not recognize yourself. Do not lower your head and try to gaze at the lines that make up your face, those thin white lips that purse together in a too-familiar stance, those dark brown eyes expanding with emptiness. Emptiness that should not belong there, that signal that the mind has crumpled up into itself and surrendered to the power of Death, or Insanity. Do not think do not think do not ask yourself

WHO AM I?

Your ego has died a brutal, sudden death and your brain has not yet understood what has just occurred. You have shattered, stretched, dilated so completely that you are not the same person you were five minutes ago, one second ago, one breath blink sigh heartbeat ago. Only moments are left until your mind will realize that something is not quite right and will calculate that the time it took for you to tilt your head and ask divided by the space that punctured a hole through the atmosphere around equals the number of years you will be surrounded by white walls and pills oncetwicethree times a day. Your mind recoils in disbelief and pure unadulterated fear as you lick your lips with your tongue and touch the glass with your fingertips and your throat croaks as you mouth the letters

of your name. There is still a name, the name. The sign of all existence--who are you and you say your name. No matter it is only a name that was assigned to you by birth, easily taken away by money and exchanged for a fresher, newer, prettier, more appropriate one. But you still believe, there is still faith that if in a name there is recognition then in a self there is presence.

Yet you say your name, scream your name, that beacon of familiarity that you held onto all of these years to point to yourself and announce to the world and say THIS IS WHO I AM AND YOU WILL RECOGNIZE ME BY MY NAME

But there is no spark, no connection of synapses, no moment of allelujah i have perceived.

You are nothing. You do not exist anymore. There is no more you.






Instead, there is a chameleon where your limbs rested a moment ago. A writhing neon green chameleon that changes colours with its breath. Red yellow green blue purple yellow blue green red orange yellow yellow orange green

But you don't understand

I am not human

I am a chameleon whose name matches the name of that human that stood here only seconds ago, but now seems to have vanished into the space time continuum warp

My eyes are the same, full of emptiness and deep brown colour pigment; my tongue flicks pink and swollen against my dirty unwashed fingernails while my hair strings around my head in a collection of grease and loose split ends.

You do not cannot understand that I am a chameleon now feeling in my veins and bones and reptile skin that is still pale white flesh my riveting eyes and my ability to change the room's colour to any shade I want

You do not cannot understand that this goes deeper than names or mirrors that what I seem to be is not what I am for what I am is what I feel and I feel like a

chameleon.

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