Shifting Gaze

I am alone, alone in this room. With only memories to speak to. With only shades of the past to bide with in this darkness. The empty cans, unfilled clothes, I empty everything that once was full. I think of a time when the day meant something, now it is meaningless next to the night. I catch the haunting wisp, of the sweetness of a hour, even just a minute. I did not regret their passing. With whom can I speak with that is real, for they are all just human. Just as lost as me, in a sense they cannot find their own way. Just as I cannot find mine. Thus we are fake, cast of what we hope to become until we know where the path of Life is. The time does pass as you well know, like taps on an empty bell which is held still so that the quaking rim cannot resound. I am almost wasted, as if I was drunk. As if I had too much of that intoxicating liquid to even forget any longer. All that is left are all the regrets I have tried to drown. I would not call this depression, for I have known of that boxed place well. Its is more of a haunting and I am the ghost. Cursed to remain when others have moved on and found their rest.