I don't know who I am anymore.
I don't know who anyone is.
Everyone here is victim to routine, and I hate it.
Everyone here is a victim to themselves.
My throat burns.
I feel like I've let them down; I feel like they let me down.
I am lost. Give me a sign.

A hope, so bittersweet.
The passage of time, so palpable.
A bed sheet drapes over man's shoulders;
People die but time goes on.
Somber house
Lingering soul
"Who we are; where we go?"

Ethereal.

i feel like he's watching me
not in a scary way,
not in a seductive way,
but in a judgmental way.
i feel like he can read my thoughts
like he has gained entrance into the lives of everyone he's ever known,
but chooses to look closely into mine.
i'm worried that one day i'll meet him
and he'll bring up each moment
where i was caught off guard,
and laugh at me,
judge me,
ridicule me.