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Sometimes I think there is no way out but then I reach a cemetery and I know I’m wrong. Somehow the gravestones mark the finish line; the epitaphs singing “game over”.

Other times I think poetry is the most beautiful thing man is capable of making. But then I stumble upon lost lines of poor poetry in my mind like:

Why do wolves howl if they can dance?

Why am I human when I can be an owl?

But my mind skips a few songs and I find myself stupefied by unanswered questions like:

Why are we here if we’re leaving tomorrow? And are the gods insomniacs to stay all eternity watching over us and our crimes?

Questions and strange answers like, “I can’t drink the cold milk because it burns my throat.”

All the poetry and questions and answers are a part of a mind in a coma, sleeping in the jungle of an existence as barren as the desert. But how can two biomes so different merge? As if the first and last page of an ecology book are glued together. The images fuse and the ink melts, joining a cactus with rain and a butterfly with sand dunes. The butterfly flutters for a moment and then dies as its wings overheat. The rain floods. Water drowns the pilgrims as they gaze at a mirage of stars burning. Sound travels through the waves and the waves crash.

All hidden in a cave. Nothing echoes except my heart beat. Its piercing power ringing through a hollow body of cavities and pores. Maybe I am a sponge. But sponges regenerate and my head hasn’t grown back since my decapitation last night. Last night ten minutes to eight, I was listening to the wrong track when it stopped all of a sudden. The silence grew in the air but found no harbor. My eardrum was useless; the nerves twitching in the air no longer carried signals. My head rolled down the hallway and into the bathroom where it rested beneath the sink.

The soap I used before the music was just as wrong. It smelled of a dying rose. Or maybe of human fat. It’s just as fragrant.

I turn on the fan and turn off the television. The movie begins at midnight but the jungle is not quiet and my eyes still stare into the ceramic tiles of my bathroom floor.