My head spins, much like it begins.
I step out of bed with no britches,
Socks flung across the room
On top of the red lampshade.
It lets off a shadowy figure that
Resembles a poorly drawn monster;
A four-year-old would cower in fear
And I'm 34 cowering in fear.
My bed is empty and I have no idea why.
Even when I make my way to the bathroom,
I see remnants of another.
Yet, ever corner I turn, I see a ghost.
A ghost that was once was and now it wasn't.
I call out and only hear an echo of my voice.
Once, I thought I heard a reply,
But it was all in my head.
I take out my address book and
Look for some help.
The book is empty like it was
When I first purchased it years ago.
Instead of looking in my phone book
For someone to torment,
I do calculation in my head:
How many minutes has it been?
How many hours has it been?
How many days has it been?
How many weeks has it been?
How many years has it been?
I hear the television on in the other room.
My girlfriend is watching cartoons.
I bet you didn't see that ending coming! I really like this poem a lot. Another "could be" prose poem. I thought about the first lines while laying down. The rest of the poem came naturally for me.
I hope you enjoy!