for me?... was it

am i even fluent in the same language as you?

i'm reading a map, upside down and sideways

i'm reading the map like it leads to MY 'home'
i'm getting somewhere or nowhere, i don't know

i say words i understand, in a language i think will make sense

i listen to words i think i understand
in a language
that makes sense to you..

give me one reason to stay here....

what part of when makes me know if it exists

no word is direct, or kissed

do i read a story i wrote?

and if so

do i even know how it ends

how much of this is foolish fit-the-pieces-where-i-THINK-they-go?

or what i know

some little bit of forgotten you
needs to tell me if i am
gullible
or
magical

lies

silence
the virtue i lack
even when silent
the act
is loud
and smacks me like i've come loose
or been set free
and i scream
(yet, so quietly)
some endlessly merciless possibility
into the pungent
thick
space
we use to attract
whatever it is we 'want'
(a term loosely used..
often confused)
with what
we
don't

things not heard

i could laugh
but the sound is the same as
everything else
that ends

'i just want back in your head'
is the catch phrase
from the song
i keep hearing
and all i want
is for that to
not
be
true.

if i run really hard
and fast....

i have to
i have no reason not to

i want to hide
but the bare naked nature of expression does not allow for it
right now
i don't know why, how

let go of the ratio
of things not said
to things not heard
cause a paper bag is never a bird
no matter how much you feel some random unrelated need to see it that way

ok. i'm done now
sorry

i am drinking wine.
i am running out of sane things to think.
none of this is metaphorical
or gets to the point
but it's all relative

abracadabra

the center
of the earth
is
crumbling
and
pulling
everything
into
itself
in some
last ditch
effort
to
pretend
the end
is only the beginning.
which it is

by osmosis

just keep me at
arm's length and hopefully i
won't
light you on fire

i'm not even sure
the length of my arm
is long
enough,
i hope yours will do

if beauty
found
in a flower
could transform me
by osmosis
i'd pick it
and stick it in my hair but
something else
is
already there

(that line. drawn where? right, i LOST it. in my hair.
i forgot it was there)

i've now
tripped over
fell off
choked on
and lost

'the line'

perhaps crossing it is not the answer

(a field of daisies...and i can't touch it)