An incomplete crisis

I spend
long hours
staring at blank air
eyes that see
a different world
transport me into 
the world of the other
where i am not i
yet i cannot see myself
still blinded
not able to find
not able to see
who am i
events take place
in the reality of that non world
which others can't see
it smells and feels the same though
one thing leads to the other
the space of that world
keeps getting deeper
deeper as i think more
deeper as i craft more
yet not taking shape
the more it grows
the more shapeless it becomes

---
from diary
16/3/2014