I'm giving a reading.
The crowd looks up at me with stars for eyes.
And it sounds beautiful and poetic, 'til you realize that means there is nothing ahead but the void of space.
I'm just floating- hapless, helpless
Through existence.
Every now and then I get pulled a certain direction, but I never enter orbit.
I'm reading to the stars.
The isolation doesn't alarm me like it used to.
I'm either more resilient, jaded, or dead- I can't really tell.
I finish my reading and I'm met with silence. I am lost. I never belonged. I'm too soft for killers and addicts and lawyers and politicians.
I'm too hard for priests and schoolteachers and poets.
I float on through the stars,
Looking for signs of life.

I've been floating for some time now....