I am from the authenticity
Of non-authentic people.
And an abundance of not enough.
I am from water stained faces
On sunny days.
And the worry and weak ropes.
I am from words un-able to escape my throat.
And the inability to cut them
Out with soul scissors
Because I misplaced mine in
Mid-October.
I am from the loud voices that no-one else can hear/
And I cute myself pasting the
Sharp remnants of
Broken memories.
I am from sipping spit
Out of gentle lions mouths.
On my daily adventures
To the same place.
I really never have been much
For going far enough.