Greetings from oblivion

Bad people are doing mean things in the world.

I sense it only as a faint tugging at my heart.

A feeling of homesickness for a place that never existed.

I hurt like I have been pulled by an angry ocean wave.

I am dazed as if I’m riding a two-day hangover.

I want to see my friends.

I can’t talk to any of them.

I want to be alone.

There is none of me left.

So, even alone, I’m left with no one.

If a fleck of me flickers by, I’ll grab it.

And try to mold it into my game face before it dissipates.

Until then I will pile sleep upon itself.

Folding away the danger of being understood.

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