Non-ideal, non-Platonic, ideas and bodies

I roll over in bed

And my arm touches

My slightly pudgy, definitely non-Platonic stomach.

My mass of human flesh

Feels vaguely warm, vaguely bland

On a semi-sleepless early night of sleep.

I feel detached from my self,

Reflected by being detached from my body.

More than detachment from my body,

Or from my self, in general,

I feel detached from life.

I feel burned out by the world.

It is of little help

To read that I am not alone

In modern America,

Or in the modern West.

Misery, when the psychological level

Of a low-grade, chronic toothache,

Cares little for company one way or another.

The world of Platonic ideas

Usually as currently dressed in Christian drag

Is thereby appealing for many.

But it is the ideas

That are shadows on the walls of the cave

And not the reality.