empty time

I walk across my hallway

just like I did two hours ago

I turn the knob and push in,

and twirl in before I close the door.

my body moves by habit,

I merely see shapes whizz right by,

I hardly remember I'm alive or here

my intent is simply blank.

I look inside for causes

of this unusual state

unguided by direction

unhinged from concrete steps.

I feel caged by the habits

I've already carved before

into the space of matter,

and that I can carve no more.

beyond my tiny cave cage

lies the universe complete

and there were times when I longed for

the sparkles and secrets it held within.

but now I look out there,

beyond my tiny cage

and what I feel is oldness,

well-treaded lands of ash and clay.

no secrets to hold sparkle

the treasures I once sought.

no juice from any fruit out there

can quench an empty intent.

and so, without a compass, nor sparkles to trail,

I wallow in space ruled by instinct

where one cannot succeed nor fail.

all the outside feels unworthy

all objectives seem blasé.

all I'm left with is to look inside,

or to bounce around in this cage.

inside lies something, I feel it.

and I can barely hold my gaze.

if there IS something there to look at,

I hope to lock onto her face.

this hope alone still buoys

a flicker of life in my little cage.