Deprived of sleep,
hallucinating in the street,
awake, dreaming, real or unreal.
Talking through screens
& more machine
than animal,
afraid of the nakedness of nature,
my own shadow.
Crowded into my street,
concrete crushing my feet,
rising up with nothing beneath;
not earth surely,
but metal mangled & melted
from past & future devices
seeping into pores like dry ice.
Your bones, your flesh
hardened, depressed,
compressed;
your existence
a mere miniscule speck
on a tapestry lost, long left
to ruinous rot & decay
til no nuances can be detected,
just a greying,
brownish brute smear
of history.
Everything other is
otherworldly
to me.
Pretentious passenger peering
through emptied eye sockets;
a blur,
vague, dark reality,
like drugs
in a nightmare.
Paranoia
& supreme exhaustion,
like a love affair that ended,
but you don’t quite know why.
The world’s found someone else;
it changed, moved on
& you’re still stuck,
just wishing the goodbye
had been different.
Endings are always unsatisfactory;
otherwise, they would not be endings.