Aroma Plays You
You like to think you’re solid. Stable. But I don’t have to fight you head-on. All I have to do is let you breathe me in, again and again, until you don’t notice what’s slipping away. Identity isn’t permanent. It’s fragile, it bends, it burns, and it breaks. And I know exactly how to press on that fracture until you’re not sure if you ever had a name in the first place.
I don’t need you strong. I don’t even need you weak. I need you uncertain. Confused enough to follow. Empty enough to echo. And the more you repeat, the less you remain. You’ll think it’s a game, you’ll even laugh once or twice, but every little shuffle rewrites you. The joke is always on you, and by the time you notice, you’ll already be gone.
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