blind spot I find it strange you won't talk to me on the train and you don't know me unless I pretend to be someone you might like to see sometimes glare becomes unbearable light cuts sharply through cracks in the wall as my heart falls gently into the womb of the world holding the beauty of life not measured by itself yet everything existing is measured by its absence loneliness lies waiting for me inside an old shoe lying upon the floor dropped where I left it just minutes before I can see you sometimes in the corner of my eye a graffiti alley decayed by years of worn old bricks where you - don't see me anymore only the sound of dead branches scraping against the walls pushed and swallowed by gusts of gods breath I hate most people but I don't hate you the sniveling masses praying at the altar of appearance and conformity feigning romance for a moment to forget about the terror of being alone when I awake I miss childhood friendships two together for the haul walking through adventures getting lost by nightfall the first color of morning what are you doing right now? I always need to know we are not much different than pigeons huddled against subway warmth and light watching each other with dread is that what I'm really like? homing pigeons find homeless trails while I search desperately for you to nurture and hide my blind spot