A Walk Through This Atrium

I am supposed to care about this

The noise of the neuro-rain, showers all my sight

Relief from this, just a second, but the clouds come, then the black sky

Love and hope build worlds and safety but the dereliction of state freezes the frame

I am no longer THE one, I am one of many. A cog. Still useful, but less vital

The names matter as fuel for the eternal story that spins. Without them there are just pictures that roll down and back, down and back emotions mean less, their value poorer

Alone to face the day and alone to face the night. Alone with everyone else

This is supposed to matter, but the words spoken are too slow and the purpose too pointless

Shout it out! Tell them the waste in the endeavour, but I know better, far better than this

Routine is comfort and absence

To matter again in someway or form, to be part of something more

To share and feel a completion, a dualness

Gather the streamers for the final advance, there’s a wave of nothing coming

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