"I close my eyes only for a moment and the moment's gone"

There are books piled everywhere.  Pages and pages of narration, of truth, of lies, of dreams and illusions.  Folds of ink that run and bleed, lamenting the loss of knowledge and the desire to know.  Lamenting the loss of empathy and desire to understand one another.  Pages on pages calling out.  They will guide you, manipulate you, creep into your mind and cover your eyes from reality.  They will open windows and blow down doors demanding to be heard.   Towers of books, carelessly tossed on the floor revealing black ink that mocks the empty white pages of my own life.