Obsolete

It crept up on me like the subtleties of nights drawing in,
it was a mid-winter moon, icy, winking its frozen snap,
it misted my eyes' view, making me blink for clarity,
to then be found sitting on my shoulders, kicking the guts.

It spoke a million words yet I could not hear them,
it presented a million faces but I failed to see them,
it gave me feelings wrapped and open, gifts under the nose,
to then be here, wanting, wanting.

It ticked its way beyond the alarm, the noise muffled,
it reminded me of a selective mute shouting,
it deadened my senses and so I ran for something,
to then be back at the beginning, scratching the earth.

It left me spinning, reaching for the tail,
it danced and played at my window each day with various hats,
it didn't know me and I cried for recognition,
to be then sickened by it.

It was me,
it was always there,
it was never anywhere else,
to be continued...