here I find myself
familiarized with the unfamiliar
stumbling upon the things I was not supposed to be
like waking up in a house that is not home
thirsty for a glass of water
without windows, without light
without knowing where the glasses are, or the water.
no light leaking from anywhere on the walls
returning to the same places
stumbling upon the same ghosts
stepping in and out of the conscious
drifting gently with the sway of the lost
thirsty for a glass of water
I find none
