Got a
Weak mind
Weak heart
Weak fingers,
So I let it all
Slip right by
But still, sometimes
It lingers.

I am too rational
To fall apart completely
Like a crumbling leaf
In the autumn breeze
But here I am.
I am a piece of machinery
With a faulty circuit board
With a touchy circuit breaker.
Tiny signals
Trigger a robust response
Because anything larger
Exceeds my design limitations.

I know you want
a conversation
not sure what there is left to say
I left
I walked away
not sure what there is left to say

I feel like I should be crying.
But there wasn’t much
To cry about
In the first place.

The poetry
Claws at my rib cage
Like it’s a real cage.
Like it’s minimum wage
Come to pay up, pay a price.
It 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘴 like blood
Or bone.
It blooms like a flower
Then crashes like stone.
It flows out of my lips
Like music’s own bile—
Life’s a trial by fire
But this is fire by trial.

We are
Different fingers
Of the very same hand.
We are
Born pure,
Then forgotten.
I am the flowers
And the river.
Mother Nature—
What can I give her?
She is all I cannot be.
She is all I once was.
The children of men
Have twisted her personage
Until her portrait no longer
Is recognizable.
The children of men
Have twisted themselves—
Trains, cars, factories!
Nothing but awful galleries
Of memories, a eulogy
For the truth, the natural way.
And yet, it all runs through us.
Like our blood, and the breeze
And the sunlight’s dappled stream,
Like a rope, but not a chain,
Sustenance, our meat and grain.
It is One, and we are It.
We are One, and separate.

Poetry
Is our humble attempt
To describe
The indescribable.