There are too many shadows creepingwithin low-lit corners of yesterdays ghosts, attempting to make a home in me. There are too many shadows withering their way under beds unmade, pillowcases stained from wishful thinking. I call it avoiding, as the broken feed from stories untold, but there are too many shadows voicing hedonistic concern. All those unfinished stories, countless sentences left unspoken. And, this home this vacancy, has been occupied by too many shadows for far too long. Energy collectors and thoughtless spectators, parasitic nomads sucking the air dry of any truth filled cry to sanity; it became a bit sad really. Watching you. The way you claimed these shadows were a mere part of your darkness. Something you had become comfortable with.  Acknowledged. And, it became sad, the way you spoke so eloquently in attempts to convince everyone around you, that these unwarranted shadows of yours, were something you were trying to let go of. And, its become sad really, the way you continue on, obliviously believing your shadows will keep you warm at night, when all of the light offered has been cast aside from your self-appointed weakness.

I hope you open your eyes.