I have been you, just as you have been me,
I have been we, just as you too have been,
things have been themselves, just as we wanted them to be,
but here we are now, silently drifting into a word.
Nouns no more,
mere verbs now,
we're just shadows drawn up in boxes,
despondent waves mumbling to the stars.
Like lifetimes wasted just learning to breathe,
everything has to end, or begin, sometime
and before the world starts to squirm,
uncomfortable in its dark vacuum groove,
I shall be done. Soon enough, perhaps.