My passion’s dead or simply dying,
And though I’m trying to understand what’s left,
I’m finding it impossible to make any headway,
In a headspace so jam packed with memories and remedies for things I don’t even know about, I have my doubts about what I can trust, but if I must listen to my thoughts I’ll quit chasing what I think they forgot, and listen to myself for once even though it’s just a shell upon a shelf of losing touch.