i find myself a husk of a man wandering the forsaken alleys of my shattered past without shoes or a moment’s respite each morning i’m fighting an azure horizon for my next breath a saline compound threatening to erupt from the roiling pit of my disgust, betraying the facade i’m narcissistic in a coyish manner discourse and behavior rippling from a pool of apathy i have an illusionary countenance masking non-expression fitting people into an egocentric universe, i find time to socialize although we’re just scraping at each others’ backs for the attention and finding it in an aptly reflective duality of sexual performance i’ve created alcoholic connections that have refused to conveniently destroy their own synapses even entertained foreplay through copper wires but, regardless, i continually manipulate conversations without resignation