Coins in a glass jar

Tinned food

Captain Cook salmon

Shopping trolleys with a dollar

Roast dinner in a takeaway container

Someone stuck a coin to the pavement

Came back with a hammer

There were no boundaries

A lot of disorganised ideas

Let me tell you, there are a lot

There is some kind of permeable membrane

Synapses like burnt grass

Messages, code, encrypted ideas

There are people watching

They are watching

Watching televisions mirages ghostly shadows

Hearing sounds from a box, a surface

That thin layer of tissue lets the outside in

I am no longer in control

Yet I can move my hand in front of me

The things that were supposed to keep me together

That bodily mass

The occasional pain or the dullness

Synapses charred and scarred

The dollar in my hand

There are dreams, memories

Lost voices, the wind at night

If I had boundaries within

Would everything be alright?

Pushing the trolley

Pushing everyone away

A dollar for every day

The tin with photos

The difficult letters 

The ideas wouldn’t stop

Cycling spiralling otherworldly

Fever dreams and social workers

Anti-psychotics low overheads

No electricity or heating

If you had no boundaries in your mind

No reason to run a tap

Or desire to fit in

We would see each other

Like professional actors

None of this is real you see

My imagination got the better of me

It got me

Reality

Coins

A visit from the community volunteers.

I made a lot of friends though

The people who offered support

I mostly refused

Only because I made that boundary

Even though none existed