Je Ne Sais Pas


    In a room seven by ten feet,


    I sleep, restless and aware


    of the unruly red writing


    beneath the heavy floor stain.


    I wait, in brass-cradled bed,


    for muffled, blocked light


    to seep through my alley window


    and soak my whitewash white


    dresser clean of night.


    Eventually, it comes,


    crawling on faded footsteps,


    belly dragging


    over thrown clothes


    lying in frozen poses.


    I lie out of light''s reach,


    This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.limbs askew, flat,


    like some Egyptian stance.


    My thoughts are birds


    that fly in an erratic cloud


    from nothing, then place to place.


    My head, with predatory reason,


    slips and lisps into snake shape.


    I dream I remember I once


    had spoken French


    as a child with time before


    school. My life seemed unlit,


    through eyes both open and slit.


    My past was an egg all full,


    but blank and unopened,


    its origin so foreign to me now.


    - Kat Isacson