Found

I find it in encoded sounds,
etched data resembling stratocasters;
I find it in the voices of dead men,
and subtle visions of forgotten masters.

I find it lurking in the shadows,
a dark tunnel that splits the sun;
I find it blossoming in all these things,
and yet I find it in no one.

We're all alone.

Unsent

All those words,
lost and floating in the air.
All those words,
tell me that you don't care.