To occupy the delusion
that one is not the main character in their own life
a desiccating boredom
That dry-rots the whole experience
How empty these spaces feel
Begging for fulfillment
As hungry birds gluttonously vying
For another revolting morsel
How plain it all tastes
When stripped of color and meaning
As if the tide has been out for so long
one wonders if the ocean is evaporating
the ship for larger schemes has set sail
lost beyond the illusion of the horizon
as a memory of otherness that cannot be placed
