For I've been drifting past souls without so much as a nudge...
Just floating past the world like the fleeting luminance
Of headlights passing one another on the highway.
Sharing a moment cold and without remembrance.
I've been out of it for years.
But I only think...
I am not sure.
I am unsure of everything right now.
Sometimes I wonder if I even know my own name...
Only rage can wake me up, and only for brief moments.
(and probably ironically It is what ate me up in the first place)
That malcontent and the constant fight for something always more.
The passionate Will stranded inside me that without a direction
Takes to consuming me whole into It's destructive oblivion.
Some days It's All just intangible fuzz.
Like white noise filtering in ghosts on an old car radio.