Strange Days

Of doing nothing and talking to nobody, of long circular conversaions, threads left undone and picked up hours later as if time of video games and news paper reading never occured.

Days of too many thoughts and too many feelings so that the outer world feels like a wallpaper, flat distraction. A shiny thing of no consecuinces.

Days that are heavy and liquid, that drip into one another, black coffee and fries. Hot dogs and pocicles. Bridging the gap with food and shopping.

Nobody is just one person. We are all many facated. But still, I feel very isolated from myself.