who am i

i don’t know any more


i know the mess



the urge to regress



deflect the question to the uncaring void of forever

the only mark a person existed is a couple pairs of scuffed up vans

a vaguely human char shape on the couch

spontaneously combust

all because i stopped

really stopped

and asked myself

who are you

i haven’t looked in the mirror on purpose all week

avoided contact with my




blindly rummaging through the drug cabinet in search of the cure all

eyes glued shut and ingesting what ever my clumsy hands grabbed

more and more

i lost my identity

it wasn’t stolen

pity the poor bastard that tries

bless their heart

i mean i lost it

no desert island

or polar bears

same number of unresolved questions

safe to say same empty finale

i have become clay



untouched by shaping hands

adrift in the nether

no umbilical to guide my way

i finally looked into the mirror today to stop the constant chatter about what manner of creature i have become

it was a disappointment

it all flooded back

in losing myself i became more than i had ever dreamt

a man with a purpose

a destiny

but as the meteor of realization crashed into me

cradled in the flaming bosom of disconstruction

meandering towards fate like a bloated mealworm

and it was there i saw it all

a placard on a stool

with gentle cursive writing

with a note

the note said never share the message

the message read


the note said not to say

but come here

i’ll whisper it into your ear


a little more

can you feel my lips on your earlobe


One thought on “placard

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