January 21, 2013
I wish you could listen to the lyric of my tidings,
but I am unable to free them from the
labyrinth of my mind.
I do not know how to
translate my chaos into spoken verse,
How to release my sentiment when I
unfurl my tongue.

Comfort lies in
someone else's scribbled words and
lazy doodles that I find
staring at a cobalt screen
in the early hours of the morning.
But I do not know how to broach
my fears of shortfalls and waste--
That I let my life sli p a w a

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