Machinery.

He wondered why his blood shot eyes.
He wondered why the time.
He wondered why the rain outside.
He wondered why the plants and trees.
He wondered why the dark.
He wondered why the obscured sky.
The moon?
He wondered why the sun.
He wondered why the job.
The objects laying.
The places to sit.
The shapes.
The shadows.
The light.
The cigarette stains the fingers.
The horribly good scent.
A film coating the inside of a water glass empty.
An electric buzz.
The tattered table leans.
What's even?
The faint hissing ring hear.
The dull fullness of bodily functions functioning.
The blur.
The pressure of bones and skin and meat.
The colors and sound and feelings no longer on speaking terms.
The realization a disconnection.
A jigsaw mirror hand me down.
The hands no longer know the face and the feet know nothing.
He wondered why the shine.
He wondered why the screen.
He wondered why the wonder.
Why was it?
He wondered.