It hasn't even been a month yet but
I look at pictures of you sometimes
and wonder what it means to forget.

Then the emptiness comes back.

To fear death;
Then long for it
We must be...

There're a series of silhouettes standing still in my backyard.
They are the ghost versions of my former selves.
I stare into their dark.
A number of moments go by,
then all at once -
they come alive.

This one jumps his leg.
That one is falling down.
Gyrating in a pattern that isn't quite clear.
That one lights a cigarette.
This one sips a beer.
Circling as if playing a game of phantom music chairs.
I see one buckling over.
Another lunges out.
A patchwork design of folly and crime -
I can't decide what it's about.

If only I could get a top-down view,
then maybe I could see
the purpose of this pointless motion;
this parade of all that's me.

No one has told me
I should feel anything but
worthless

I used to think I
Simply had to try harder
Now it's too hard
To try at all

One day I was happy
The next I was sad
The day after I was gone