here I find myself

familiarized with the unfamiliar

stumbling upon the things I was not supposed to be

like waking up in a house that is not home

thirsty for a glass of water

without windows, without light

without knowing where the glasses are, or the water.

no light leaking from anywhere on the walls

returning to the same places

stumbling upon the same ghosts

stepping in and out of the conscious

drifting gently with the sway of the lost

thirsty for a glass of water

I find none