I’m losing time: like a purse does pocket change.
I’m blurring lines: like an eraser does on a sketching page.
Though not entirely- yet. Perhaps under erasure?
I’m lost-in-awareness: so-called absence.
Trapped in emergence: like a virus unexpressed.
I’m lost- in-transit: synapses in mid- transition.
I’m stuck between frames: in the gaps between measures.
I’m missing the action: like indigo on the crayon box.
Non- transmission: eyes open wide in non-response.
I can’t bear the weight of existing: so my Self from thee escapes.
I’m lost-in-awareness: on the path between conscious & brain-dead.
Loss of life: like seconds to minutes to hours
in pitch black.
No truth nor comprehension: no redeeming or restoration.
Anxiety & apprehension: like sharp razors force a smiling expression.
Out of me I am lost: like a self mourning its soul-in-loss.
Can’t or won’t you see?
I am vacant, no longer here:
Or perhaps, it’s just not me. Erasure and no encore. Start from scratch.