I live inside a rock, I live in a hole in a mountain; I am a hermit, I live in a hole in the ground. Like I blister in the sun. I have built a glass cage around myself to keep you out and to keep me in; I aten't dead, I am out here studying stones; my batteries are running low, I am a mirror, my ground state of being is reservation, if you are reserved aswell, I have no light to reflect back at you. I am a closed box, a sealed jar. I don't keep secrets, but I don't connect. I am Scrooge.

I am awake but I am scattered in a dozen directions; I am awake but my mind, the place in which the voice is, is scattered everywhere I have been. I am awake, but I can't talk right now.