Nothing touches me here.
Not old sorrows, or wasted memories.
Not today, not tomorrow.
Weightless, nameless, nothing.
To be free.

I am seeking…
The recollection of sensation,
the phantom of a kiss.
Pain, hate, life, or love.
Anything… something.
Everything.

Nothing touches.

Sometimes, the shadows come,
dripping midnight ink over
my whole horizon -
stealing my present,
refusing my past.
Bricks of ebony,
ascending to the stars.

The key to overcoming a thing
is not necessarily in recognition.
I can name my demons -
Each
And
Every
One.
They are my comrades, my playmates,
My dearest companions.

The key to overcoming a thing
is not necessarily understanding.

Nothing touches me anymore.