I Am Not Like You

I am not like you.

(though it pleases you to believe that I am).

And I realize that it must make the days appear
much more accommodating if you can imagine
that there is someone else out there
just like you.

(and perhaps there is).

And though I am almost perpetually uncertain of who and
what it is exactly that you are or when and
where you may have come from.

(I am sure of one thing).

I am not like you.

Still

I often suspect that you're still out there, still living,
still breathing while being the person you portray
and so desperately struggle to be.

And I see you still...

wandering forth and stumbling back
with a torn and tattered map, a watch that
can't tell time and a broken compass.

Still ravenously devouring misplaced souls
and documenting them with beautifully
written black and white rhetoric.

Still watching yourself with callow eyes as
the world unfolds and folds again around you...

still living the lie you've disguised as the dream.