I drive nothing

How could you leave me behind? I want to tell you to look, these are the cut out holes where my eyes should be.

Ten days lapse between Now and Again but the mind does not bend. I have been to the right and the left side of this spider's web and of this small library of records. But I cannot exceed it. A young boy, many years younger than I, shelves books that have been left on grey study tables.

I am not a writer. I am a coward. Why else do I shirk the words I want to say the most?