Please Shake Me

My memories vanish when I open my eyes.

I’m more textured than the bark of a tree,

from a distance

this makes no difference.

The sun overhead subdues me,

evaporates my thoughts

until

I have no inclination of who I am.

My memories vanish when I open my eyes.

I count the hours till sleep.

I kill myself daily.

My waking consciousness is a bear trap:

to exist introspectively

is to stick my head in a blender.

I have to submit to the voltage

when lightning paralyzes

and I’m torn between

fight and flight. 

I’m now eight years old

and can't defend himself. 

I scream for my mother, but there’s no sound. 

Meal after meal,

my father greets me:

"You ungrateful little shit,

if you don't eat this I’ll give you a reason to cry.” 

My memories vanish when I open my eyes

and swoop my sanity into oblivion.

I’ve never been more ready to be shook.