Words are like water,
Slipping through the chasms of my mind.
I want to make sense.
I want to be well understood.
It's a desire for connection,
Or perhaps respect due an elder.
And, yet, my mirror has been shattered,
And my feeble attempts to articulate
Are ending in grotesque tragedies
I flail at my circumstance,
Or I try to whip up
Some sympathetic frenzy
and paranoia tells me
that you hear me crying
too many wolves
...or that no one is left in this empty room.
every poem creates a sad water color
every post gets casually liked, then passed over
every meeting, i climb upon a soapbox
only to be shunned as a dirty heathen.
I float adrift, in this plastic choked sea
stripped of all the stories that lend identity.