I pull at myself, my flesh, my being...
Being bored. Being boring.
Being something I am not.
I am free at last. Free from having to do anything.
So I do nothing. I am becoming what's inside of me. Nothing.
Familiar voices fade in my ear and faces are hard to face.
Awake. Alone. Aware.
Do you have "triple A" ... breakdown prevention, protection?
Time to re-inflate.
Erratically eradicate all that once was you, or me, or what?
Who am I? Where am I?
Oh right(!) Another new city, identity... life. Daily.
Bored with the new. Let me find the lost consistency...
Of drinks and laughter and falling up stairs and skinning my knees
Perhaps that's it(!)
I need more blood on my lips.
I need more motion and excuses to circulate, yet stay silent...
Silent and still --- it defines me --- my head spins the slower I move
Drunk without the drink?
What is it to lose definition? Lose face?
I look in the mirror and I can't remember.
I look in the mirror but that's not my face.