as the afternoon
becomes filled with
earnest objections
they don’t want to go
i don’t want to
stop existing again
but none of us
has a say in things
so they gather up
their stuff as i
clean the messes
leaving a blank slate
for when they return
and i reawaken again
i know they will be fine
sometimes i am not so
sure if i will be
but that doesn’t matter
the days are the same
the nights drowned
in waves of silence
sleepwalking through
an insomniac oblivion
an afterthought in
the cobwebbed corners
where emptiness lingers

no matter how loudly
i scream into the abyss
no one listens
just the ebbing void
soaking up the sound
i become lesser than
a negative sum of
unreturned emotion
a void where a person
is supposed to be