Detached
By Shelley M. Latreille

My detachable mind escapes each night,
only to return the next morning
with a new and improved vitality.
The freshly new information is horridly jammed
into my brain like a body into a coffin.
New thoughts explode outwardly
as bodies of victims lay strewn about.
The injured weep as the healthy feast upon them
and collect their souls in order to obtain passage
and accommodations in the afterlife.