Jason drove me to work
Every morning for months.
He had coffee for me.
His name may not have been
Jason.  That sounds like a name
You make up for someone when

You’ve forgotten their name.
I don’t remember much about
Jason, like his last name
Or if he had a family.
Hell, I remember more about the
Fucking warehouse we were filming in.

People are props that litter
My world, useful until
They disappear, unneeded.
Like Jason’s coffee,
I drink them and then they are

Why am I so fucking alone?

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