Thursday, March 25, 2010


There are days when my hand passes through everyone that I touch.

It makes me wonder if I am a ghost. Passing through this world unable to reach those that tug at my heart.

Can I pass through walls I wonder as I smack my face hard against the brick. I feel the pain and think it might not be me. Maybe the world spins around me like a vapor. I squint and see exactly what I long to see and when I reach out to touch them it swirls back to the mist that it was.

What of the sounds and smells that reel against my senses? What of the quickening of my breath and thunder in my chest?

What about the knowing...

I swallow hard and wonder if I am simply an echo of what was...