If all of this has taught me anything, it’s this…

There is little difference between a ghost, and a soul that’s trapped in their own past.

Fumbling through memories behind this Mask of Presence.

Stories playing all the while, everywhere. Even as I speak to you.

Lost

in a dark rotting forest, seemingly responsible for all its creatures, every tree another task; under every fallen leaf and branch

a question.

And my eyes water as I choke

from a whiff of

distant smoke.

No oxygen to answer.