Insane

It’s been turned

It’s been twisted

Yet it is not it, but them and they and plural

Thoughts, questions, memories

They are jumbled

Plurally jumbled because they are not it

Not just one

But they are all confused

Everything I thought was plural

Everything I thought was numerous

All my thoughts were countless

Are countless

Countlessly more than one plural

Nothing is clear or remotely so

No skies or television controllers here

Not in this place, this...

Room?

I think

Or is it plurally rooms

That cannot be sanity speaking

Cannot be plurally sane

To question it and they-them-countless

Cannot and can’t

Neither is possible in this...

White room?

Where motion is inevitably ended

Thoughts are thoughtlessly discarded

Dreams are beautifully banished

And countless are the plurals I question

But is it I and not we in this case?

No plurals here

No multitudes here

I am not countless

Just mindless and formless

Yet endless

I think

I have gone insane.