Weekly feature by: Fiona Collins

In the wake of our divorce,
there has been a precipitous and,
if I am being honest,
calamitous escalation in my drug use.

Lying here in the emergency room,
drifting in the flotsam of my life
and the jetsam of my latest overdose,
I am thinking of enrolling in some kind of space travel program.

I have no taste for adventure,
harbor no desire for exploration.
It is the hypersleep I am interested in.

I am seeking irreversible amnesia,
hoping for years and years of unconsciousness
while I am borne away from you.
My only reservation is the dreaming.

I may sleep for centuries
and awaken beneath the light of a different sun,
surrounded by alien vistas.
My greatest fear is that,
even in the most profound disorientation,
my first thought will be of you.

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