I, Stranger

A closet loft…dark and eerie. Cluttered cobwebs block the door of mysterious illusions. A tingling of the rotting hand. I am in a deep zone of hopelessness. Providing me with confusing vertigo hallucinations. Meant to force maniacal resignations. Somehow, Somewhere I have lost my home again. Where have I put myself? Where have I gone? Who is this stranger staring back at me? He shaves the skin off of his face and I still don’t know who I am.

©Timothy Grassan


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