convinced that i am wise, i wire
and rewire
and revise and revise
and just leave it
blank.
a blank is nice & empty.

and empty
is what i now disguise as comfort.
the more silence that i settle in,
the more places there are for us to hide.

convinced that i am sane, i train
and retrain
and retain and re-tame
my mind to ask for every thought served on ice,
because frozen is comfort, too.

it is solid
and it can be held and drawn,
and re-drawn
it can be sharp
and be the means by which i sever
any speech i string together.

because for now just words will do,
any words you like untrue,
will fit into this empty,
i’ve stretched to welcome you.