Everything is Nothing but Everything

i scream soundlessly into a vacuum

hoping to drive the insanity away

though it never seems to work

as ghosts of past coworkers, former friends and lovers

haunt me in my own neighbourhood

(i actually saw four of them today)

but i cannot quite discern what it really means

my movement impaired by my own inactivity

a fear of something else?

or just the goddamned uncertainty of where to place

my feet, my mind, my heart?

i know i should have spoken to

the mocha beauty

whose path crossed mine

in the used bookstore today

but i honestly did not know what to say

do not know how to push myself outside myself

to allow me to live again