I sit and wait for some sort of miracle.
But nothing ever comes.

And, I've gotten used to being alone.
Passing the time between here and.
Eternity.
Motionless.
Agape at an absurd universe that taunts me.
With lies of success.

Tomorrow.
Tomorrow is always fixed in my mind as some antediluvian.
Memory I don't have.
Tomorrow.
Where I'll fix what's wrong with me.
Do the things I talk about.

But, not today.
Never today.
Today is for the nostalgia of coulda done better.

I've lost all the eloquence.
I had when I was young.
And now I express myself.
In grunts and moans.
And ugly things.

And it's far too late for teenage angst.

So
Why do I still feel this way.
So unconnected and discombobulated.
Fumbling through my words.

To the one I used to love, used to need:
You never
text
me.
It's like you
moved
on
the second I was
gone.
As for me, I've been
S T U C K
in the memories.
I can't not
think
of
you.
But I think I
may
be
moving
on.

On the outside
I see
Less
Than others

But beyond physical sight
They are the blind ones