Passing by time, I am on the outside; the inside,
This life is not mine.
But, it pushes me along.
I am on the outside; the inside.
I was informed that I am
Just as I am.
What am I in?
Pushing me along, teasing with chance.
A witness to motion,
A motion within.
Somnambulated, awkwardly here.
I wish through strange eyes
That this body would feel
As if it were mine.
I am on the inside of outside,
I am at flight.
Look at the shell that I’ve shed,
It never belonged.
My atrophic fit fell
the moment it tried to exist.
I am at flight from
the things that I think of myself.
The things that I do,
As they are done.
Before it swells into guilt,
Or melts into shame,
I’ll be gone.
On the inside of outside
“I” doesn’t last long…
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