Cross-stitched Navel Attaché

I live a life one step removed
Behind that frosted pane
Where shadows clue
And ghosts remain
But never answer calls
Number withheld

I scratch the parchment skin
From within the tightened drum
Parading paranoid days
An aggregated sum
Of the future’s empty promise
Black nails knuckled numb

I hear him droning on
In the room inside my head
Wearing a deeper groove
When what he should’ve said
Would paint a brighter view
The broader track un-tread

I look out wondering through
The side door framing daylight
Dust mote dancing wrong
Somehow put to right
Lacklustre summer sailing
A time waster's line-of-sight

For who am I to talk
About all I know is true
When I won't bend my will
Give the devil’s due
To kiss the open palm
Of the empty hand extended