there is no
specific moment
that i can
recall
with any sort of
clarity
when i became
a secondary character
in the story
of my own life

at some point
the words
became the focus
as i fell farther
from the stage lights
until i woke up
and didn’t recognize
the collection of flaws
staring back
uncomprehendingly

now as i
stumble blindly
searching for
those things
the former occupant
of this scarred mass
of ugly indignation sought
up to the exact moment
his own meaninglessness
erased his halfexistence

nothing more than
a collection of letters
fallen
in random dismay
across the perfect skin
draped along
the sensual ache
that runs down
her starry eyed
consequence