when i turn to look back
i find a thousand corpses
of my dead self
like so many alices
a thousand lives lived
trailing behind me
should i insist upon hugging each one
so i can feel them crumble in my arms
probe them for evidence, signs of my self
resavor feelings long gone
and evaporated through time
search at the emptiness
the eyeless sockets of death?
must i call back the dead
and mourn over them
one by one?
i am here.
i am alive.
there is only me
and now.
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