dis-orientation

( a gen-x sonnet) 
 
So long have I gazed through your shattered glass,  
Outside, forgotten, left, that even leaves  
And flowers hold no aspect true that pass  
As any part of me that life receives.  
   
You ask if I still hold a want of you,  
But who would be this wanting thing you want?  
For in this home, I’m what you never knew,    
But wanted only your own sycophant.  
   
No sex, no drugs, no craving left remains.  
The nails that desperate hold can leave no scars.  
A stranger not, for “stranger” still contains  
A part that is in life which mine now bars.  
   
Stripped naked raw of all your bleeding fear,  
I hope you know that I was never here.