It's blurring out of sightnThe faces flickering in the tinsel light on the esplanadesnFluid and vanishingnDissolving, hiding thingsnIn your room, after the scene, when the faces shiftnInto someone elsenThe arcade is echoingnIn a shattered self, the figure's shimmeringnnAlter all the static thoughtsnInto something less than what was soughtnThe splendour of withinnInner helplessness no morenEmpty habits cure the needsnSolely to concedenNever disagreenSeek obscurity in luciditynnMy identity is dying,nSomeone said: Can you believe this line?nAnd for all I know there's a curenFaltering, reversing forwardnSentiment's never odd or evennThe minds are solid as liquidnIt's reverberant and faintnVaguely luminousnEverything has changednAnd nothing is the same