Touch

My doctors claim

“A form of Schizophrenia”

But I’m not so sure

Nothing makes it stop

Always I feel it

Always I’m touching it

Everything feels like flesh

From wood to stone to cotton

To fur to steel to glass

That subtle give

The warmth and breath

And water

Oh gods

I cannot begin to properly describe

The slick

Greasy

Coppery

Fibrous

No

No I can’t

And Jesus Christ

RAIN

I shudder to think

For not much longer

Can I bear this hell

The world breathes

And knows of me

And soon I’ll die

And return to its side