Schizo Sky

It's a dry sky today but the clouds loom close overhead. They are flat like bricks, depleted by the sun and smothering. You can reach your hand above your head and pull out a fistful of cloud stuff. It crumbles like forty years of fiberglass insulation burning, itching and scratching at your skin as it falls away. The air is close and super-heated. Everyone wonders what has happened. All the children have disappeared. You can hear their mothers wailing for miles around you. Their voices are in sync like some warped song.

My head is full of wasps so I start walking. As if I can find some answer by wandering aimlessly through the surreal streets. The voices come in waves at first. They sound like someone is flipping through a radio dial and the speakers are close to my ears. I struggle to understand them. It seems perfectly fine that I am tearing out my hair in bloody clumps. It helps me climb up to the door. Fumbling for a handle that moves from place to place I can see through the tiny window. The halls are clean. White. I can smell the disinfectant from here but I can't open the door. I just want the chance to dream again so I scream. Two women come running toward the window with concern on their faces. I can see the frowns and the caring in their eyes as they open up the door. I am free to dream again, but for how long I don't know.