Tag Archive | sense of self

Somehow Separate

Crystal R. Cook

Outside of myself.
Walking wide-eyed
through dreamless dream.
I feel the wind
tickle my skin,
I smell the neighbors
breakfast biscuits through
open kitchen windows,
My feet touch
the floor but,
I float, somehow
disconnected, watching me.
Thought and action askew,
the soundtrack in my mind
ever so slightly ahead or perhaps
the day forgot to begin on time.
Two planes of existence
struggling to coincide or
break away.
Harmony disrupted.
Separating. Separated.

Crystal R. Cook


Parade of Fools


Conformity is not my norm,
I’ve no desire to fit in.
Societal expectations
are not my thing.
I try to understand
the hunger for acceptance
I see so many
willingly sacrificing
themselves upon alters
of false pretenses to obtain,
but the reasons I seek
elude me.
Shall I slit my own wrists
and allow my essence
to drain, pooling into
the festering puddle
of a fictitious existence?
Shall I don a mask
which doesn’t quite fit
to blend in with the faceless
crowds blindly following
an unseen leader?
A reclusive ghost, this non-existent
circus master serves as shepherd
to a lost flock, leading them
to slaughter with delusive promises,
empty platitudes and hollow hopes.
They follow without question,
shedding their individuality
like clothing too tattered to wear.
A fools parade,
I cannot follow.

Crystal R.Cook

Ghosts of me.


In your world I wholly exist.

I fulfill needs, I play roles.

In my own, I slowly fade
as darkness falls and
sound stills to silence.

I walk through your illusion,
sometimes drifting into
the remnants of my own,
wandering in confusion,
wondering, who am I?

No one. Everyone.

Anyone. Someone.

When your eyes chance
upon me, you see my facade
and give purpose to it,
though when I am alone,
between scenes of life,
my script at times is blank.

Devoid of meaning
in hollowed places
once filled and full
with the essence of self
I remember once having.

Thoughts of me
that should be mine
have faded, leaving
ghostly apparitions
as reminders they
once were.

Quiet and dim
are dreams
that once danced.

Only their shadows remain.

Crystal R. Cook