Psychological Abyss

Why am I here?
Does this room ever end?
Or am I drowning in my own imagination?
Droplets of water, rippling, bring sounds of tranquility.
Underground, the aqueduct is cold, and anxiety fills the room.
Lost is the feeling that resides in me.
Not a door in sight.
Searching for answers, who am I?
Suffocating in my own thoughts, am I dead?
Feeling is lost, I find my hands, cold as ice; they begin to slow down. Aqueduct! Aqueduct! Flooded floors, it’s an aqueduct.
I am it!
Lost, cornering the walls, looking for an exit.
It follows the light, this never ending light.
Afraid of loneliness, am I it?
Eyes seen unclouded, James Casebere is here.
Following James, he disappears.
My body movement against the air, chilly I am.
Surcease, Casebere reappears!
Speaking, “Who am I?” Taking one foot step at a time, the fog begins to set.
Lost in the fog, where is James Casebere.
Here I am.
I am no where.
I don’t want to be alone!
James Casebere, what is my name?
You are the artist and I am your canvas.
What is my name? Walking in your flood, paint me an answer.
James Casebere has no words for me, only colors. Splash, splash, dripping, wet paint on me.
I feel alone, secluded from life.
I am here.
Turning into corners, what am I looking for or am I looking for nothing? I am cold.
WHAT IS MY NAME?
Let me wake up from this absent mind.
Wake up I say!
Casebere answers, “This is Nevisian Underground and this is my psychological abyss.”
I lay down in the water and I am James Casebere.
James Casebere, 2003
Nevisian Underground