becoming

i often forget who i am and run off on empty quests because i dream myself into another person’s life.

but when hard pressed i couldn’t easily explain myself or know myself any better than the mythical strangers that i wear as masks.

and my mind
  has been wandering
back into times before this times
and i wonder who
that person was
that was
there

i ponder nothing anymore since my experiences have been shrunk to a certain small square footage that i occupy for more than 18 hours per day.

even walking the perimeter has gotten tedious.

what is this existence other than passing time and taking pills to go to sleep and get it over with?