i keep walking up in the same body, but different. turning 90 degrees to match the sun through the window. new day, but nothing new. check my height, same. check my shoe size, same. the mirror tells a similar story. thoughts spray against the walls. slight alterations, not revamped, if anything, sour from expiration. my mind has grown old, i can feel it. the liquids have taken their toll. one day i’ll make sense of it all; however, i’m afraid by then i’ll have succumbed to it’s allure.