Dazed: A Poem

Chairs scrape noisily,

and I come out of my daze.

I’ve been there, in that chair,

for who-knows-how-long.

I’m not even sure what I’d been thinking

as I sat there

and stared at my desk,

stared at it, but did not see it,

I was thinking about


I sure don’t…

or maybe I do,

I search my brain

for who-know-what

only to find it blank and empty.

But, perhaps that is it,

perhaps I was thinking of emptiness.

That big black emptiness

the kind that grabs you

when you realize you’re alone

when you realize how long you’ve been alone,

and how long you will be alone.

That emptiness that sucks you in

until you have no other option,

but to be alone

in that cold, black, emptiness.


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