i am not here,
not really,
just a spectre
lost in the coffee shop
amidst the corporeal;
it’s my un-dead practice
for the eternity ahead.

i don’t know if i’ve ever been here
or if i am awareness
trapped in a lifelong virtual reality,
watching my life from a distance,
moving my avatar forward and back,
cold experiments in hate and love,
hurt and a palette of whatever falls before me.

my programming keeps me apart,
engaging persona a for this,
engaging persona b for that;
smile, slight head tilt, concern…
like when i was six
and that bitch beat me up
and i ran home crying,
i still remember a deeper part of me
watching the emotion – curious,
and it made me laugh…and then stop –
no ghost. no shell.