16.12.012

I want to touch you.  I remember the songs
we used to listen to;
I listen to them, and I am taken.

Backwards in time, my being flies to find
a younger self, an older version
of the feelings and thoughts occupying my mind.

In this state-- disillusioned
(neither Space, nor Time)--
persists ein perversion

of the self with which
I once identified;
I am Nowhere;

I am Nothing; I am
a fly on the wall of mein
propio cranium.

There's a soldier in my head who's willing to die
for the soul she believes
is real, is right.