The important things
Have become arbitrary landmarks
I feel a detached distaste
A numbness when I cross my mind
I wanted to be  
beautiful, mysterious, adventurous
I wanted to be free...
The farther I look for myself
The more intricately I web myself in
The idea of a person..
have I become that person
What does that even mean?
When does reinvention
Become destruction?
Do you keep falling
Because you've grown attuned to the motion?
When do decisions become muscle memory?
I'm digging tunnels , digging pits
Lights fade out , I forget I need saving