you live
sub level
a prodigy of survival
crawling under layers
masks of dead people
you were once~
how long has it been
you trace the question along the pillow cases
(it’s the bedsheet -change day)
looking around, you see tiny crevices in the house
that need to be filled
for they howl at night~
you are the anachronistic piece in their lives
you keep asking them:
do you not see me?
am i visible?
hello…
hey…
and everyone continues to stare into their phones~
pareidolia of faces and presence
it’s your mind playing with you
maybe it is bored
disinterested in your existence
as much or as little as you are;
i know what you want:
silence in which you  evaporate
and when they look up from their phones
eyeballs swollen and popping out
they won’t know you were ever there ~

…

diya is from lahore. loves old trees, words and surreal nights~