Invisible Man.

You fade in and out

Like a star whose level of brightness can only be measured

When you're not looking directly at it.

You clog my brain

With thoughts of your cynicism

And with your ability to wash out important things

With unimportant things

As if to cleanse yourself of anything

That would ever truly make you happy.

(Disregarding things that cannot be labeled,

Because labels are what make the thing exist,

Not the thing itself.)

...Or so you like to think.

"Life is not a game."

You say.
Though I know how you play.