80°F duskrun

I need to disappear and I need to do it quick. Rip open my skin like the wind rips the door open. Dig around my guts and pull out each string until I am half empty like the settling humidity. I'm running out of time and my mask begs to melt into the summer air. What else do I have to mold it? What else of myself do I even have, even know enough to front this persona? The orange-blue frenzy of a sky echos above the empty inside me and all I am is everything around me everything around me at all. Who do you see when you see? Who do you know when you know me? If even I don't know is there really anything at all? I could run and run and run and every slam of concrete under my feet will be nothing anyway, dis- disappear into nothing because I am nothing and no summer day or evening breeze or brush of grass can make me something that was never there at all.