Blanche

they are blind
to the shadows that
linger and hum
in the taint of my eyes,
spreading like a plague into the air.

everybody is yearning for something
but they never reach out.

i have room for a hundred
yet a million cram in
because i am always mistakened to be
larger than the world i balance on;
my mind is exploding
muted and white.

i am forever
fiddling with life
to test the impact of existence,
and it is a strange sort of calm
to realize the world will forget
to set its eyes on you
when you tip over the edge
one day.