Hollow. Empty. Gaping. Incomplete. Needy. Gasping. Shallow. Unwhole. Unwise. Unreal.
I feel like words can’t quite put together what I am.
I look around and see not a soul save the hundreds.
I look inside and see not a soul, save me.
I touch myself and feel only cold fingers on colder skin.
Staring faces of clocks pass time slowly and quickly and wrong.
Legs of tables and chairs support me, hold me up to my fate.
The gazing of the lazy lamp illuminates empty space.
Empty faces.
None of them hold true to destiny, to the plan.
Weight pressing me onto the earth, never letting me up.
Hope rising and falling again with every breath, hope abused. Hope tarnished.
But still hope.
