I’m from the freshwater body,

(warm, inviting,

welcoming, inalterable.)

I’m from the cornfields that swallowed me like oceans.

I’m from the golden summers when speckles appeared on my skin.

(Wandering back home at sunset, experiencing the worst at night.)

I’m from the dreadful dreams and sleepless nights,

pains engulfing my head like a fire,

tainting my perception and infatuation alike.

I sleep,

listening to the tick tock from the old grandfather clock against the wall.

Seeing darkness, an abandoned abyss.

 I wake up,

listening to the “footsteps” running down the hallway.

Seeing the figures of sleep deprivation dance across the walls.

Arachnids and monsters fed my fears.

(But the worst still had yet to come.)

I’m from past, present, and future.

From after the Berlin Wall destruction,

 which freed the spirits and worry of people in crisis.

From during the disastrous burning of the rainforest,

 where animals meet their maker.

From before the colonization of the red planet, 

when humans have set foot on that dusty, dead rock.

(The doom of mankind.)

I’m from the freshwater body,

deep in Wisconsin.

I’m from the false awakenings,

engraved in my mind.

I’m from the occurrences in the world,

hiding and waiting to emerge.