Had trouble sleeping at first last night, so I tried writing a few things…

Spinning squares
send spiky spirals
splashing across
the factory floor

but the machinery doesn’t stop

Though I escape
by roundabout means
and random dodges
I can still feel

the shredded layers of skin
about my mouth and face

It heals quickly
I am lucky
the taut, tightly wound cords
could have sliced me into sections

and if you die in The Matrix
your body doesn’t survive
in the real world

Still she sympathizes
as she guides me up the stairs
to the mysterious tower
where the lighthouse used to live

far from another shore
where ships routinely
split and drowned

(23 March 2015—posted March 24)