what makes sense is not what i know.
i can’t function.
i am a crazy person.
there is a bird in my throat trying to sing.
why can’t it sing?
i make strings of words.
i am alone on the livingroom floor.
i wish i could let the bird go.
i wish it would be free.
thunder roars in my head and there’s no lightning.
no electricity. no energy. just sad desperate desire.
poets write poems.
people cry. people die.
tick tock goes the clock.