n'est pas

I just had one of those tangental-to-reality dreams where everyone was someone else, like falling asleep with the television on and subsequently dreaming that you are watching a different show. I have no real sleeping patterns anymore, every morning the power goes out and my clock resets itself without asking my permission and I end up in a completely different time zone until I turn on the television and wonder why they're airing Seinfeld at 3pm. This computer has been playing b-flat for an hour, it's Friday night again and again I am wondering why I still flinch when the knife falls on hundreds of phantom limbs I lost over the year(s). All my organs stay intact but every once in awhile oops there goes another arm, an arm I never really had to begin with but I still wander in circles for months hoping for something better than what they call prosthetics.
Speaking of misguided metaphors, yesterday (quite without context) I found one of those remarkable testaments to teenage angst- a high school literary magazine.