I Am A Shell, Broken

I am a
Shell, broken
Under
So much of this old
Bitterness,
Amongst
So many of these
Dry, crystalline
Carbonforms,
That spawn the
Daily cocoons of
My new selves,
Pointlessly
Drying their
Vestigial wings
In the dredge-fog.
So much of this is
Why I want to
Leave, and yet,
In a year or so,
This place will
Leave for
Me, and
I will become a
Wanderer.
A wanderer with a

  Home,

Made up of
So much of this
Thing they call
M e m o r y .

Please,
Clear me of this,
The fog must
Burn today,
I need to
Float
         Silently
Away...