Detachment

Quietly these thoughts hover and float
unsought, undreamed-of clinging only to that
fear of unknown drifting; drifting elsewhere,
slithering gently; silently unfolding words that wither
in whispered silence. The unresponse.

Strangely shocked, no scars of self-deception,
quietly these thoughts, past truths float up;
dreams of insecurity, gently, silently unfolding
the unknown moment which drifts elsewhere.

No more the ever-present voice, my head
at last too tired to dream of observation;
Instead a deepness in the innards, strange feeling,
illuminates a death in life, awareness,
devoid of the apparel that kept me "safe".

Settling footsteps turn, as, washed-in washed-out,
the one that roared in self-defacement has,
these past few moons, stilled, preferring quickened emptiness; a want of insufficiency that leaves me

Mutely in thoughtless contemplation
quietly licking self-inflicted wounds.

How to deliver this absence of absence?
the one who has been me so long has departed,
or else somehow ceased its dreary confirmation

December 7, 2001