The looks I gets off strangers & friend are sour. Bite.
i gives a nostalgic look to past company kept dear
i is frozen in photo albums.
i receives glances from a person,
from no person. Glass compassion.
alien to the other. Any non-lover,
any wanna be friend
Life i acts out. Dead in front of the television.
sensationalism numbs with
an ill feeling blowing through the cracks in my soul.
Cold. Stiff. i in neutral drive.
No emotion. No reason. Death media.
The books i have read said everything i knew,
lies of the deceased.
I is not a corpse.
I is in a morgue home.
Built from his own
self and health.