April Fox

And one day you realize
it's taken up residence inside you,
a parasite
invisible and sucking the life
from your limbs and your eyes, rendering you
motionless and blind
a marionette walking
step toe
step toe
step toe
dangling from the strings held fast
in its lying mouth
headed toward a place 
you never recognized as home, and your head is
Empty, a vessel
to be filled with confetti cut from 
scraps of truth and lore
till someone hits it hard
splits it open, sends it spilling
spinning contents through the air
landing in a fire, frayed strings catching embers
wicking up the flames and freeing you
Escher's twisted parasite
dying at your feet and the wind begins to blow
October in, pieces parts of you together 
In ways you never knew and the glue of
apathy and living
binds you naked
to the truth.