i wake,
but it feels more like surfacing—
like i've been underwater all night
and forgot how to breathe above it.
the ceiling stares back,
indifferent and quiet,
and for a second,
i forget what year it is.
what skin i'm in.
what life i'm pretending to live today.
time doesn't pass;
it leaks—
slow and formless,
spilling into hours i can't name.
i brush my hair.
put on clothes.
walk out the door.
make sounds that resemble words.
but none of it feels like mine.
some days
i watch myself from outside—
like i'm a puppet
strung up in a simulation
just sophisticated enough
to mimic emotion,
to nod at the right moments,
to laugh on cue.
the lights hum.
my hands blur.
the mirror glitches.
and i am everywhere
and nowhere at once.
i forget where i was going,
so i just keep walking.
i forget what i was saying,
so i just stay quiet.
there's a version of me living this life,
and sometimes i see her.
but she feels fictional.
a poorly written protagonist
in a story with no plot.
and then—
the static hits.
a quiet panic,
a silent scream.
who am i?
what am i doing here?
why can't i feel it?
i blink,
and i'm sitting in a room
i don't remember entering,
holding a phone
i don't remember picking up,
reading words
that slip through my mind
like water through a net.
this is not dreaming.
this is not waking.
this is just being.
and it's terrifying
how empty that can be.
YOU ARE READING
poems
Poetrypoems i've written. i recommend reading from the bottom of the parts and working up to the first one. i promise they get better and more lengthy. the first few poems are rhyme schemes, the rest are free verse peoms. please don't take without credits...
