Out Of His Mind

He left, approached a door:
       I try to open it without looking or thinking.
       Something opens

but the door did not open.
       Worlds blend together;
       nothing is definite.

He looked down and—
       my hand is not there
       my body, disconnected

Did he kill himself?
       I thought
               just by thinking it?

Is this
       what death
       is like?

strangely calm, evanescent
       I don’t need to turn to see that
       I am bodiless, my body mindless, I feel that my

       is here
       alive, and—

his own?
       Separation; fear.
       His mind returned to our body.
—something closed.

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