3-5 working days,
an estimate,
processing.

I hear,
'Can't you be bothered',
But I can't. Be.

They beg
'Please share',
But sharing feels like offering a piece of myself to you,
And I'm afraid there might not be enough to give.

Snowflakes melt when they touch her hand.
She wonders if she's inhabitable.
She wonders if they sense she's not worthy.
She wonders if she pales in comparison to 'one of a kind'.

It doesn't occur to her that it might be
Her warmth.

The sound of wind startles me when I’m crying.
Earth’s footsteps,
Too quick to approach.

I’ve heard it,
Familiar tune sung with foreign words.

I’ve seen it,
An image painted with strokes unfinished, of wrong, awkward colour.

I’ve felt it,
Sensation lost, only traces buried under my finger nails, too long.

It’s there,
Then it’s gone.

I’m angry at inspiration.
It breeds expectation,
And don’t you know that expectation
Is happiness’ enemy?

I guess I would call it hazy.
This unholy congregation of ‘I feel’s and ‘I think’s.

Well, I feel like I’ve become unfeeling
And I think that there’s no room for thinking.
And I feel like I’m overthinking
And I think that I’m tired of these feelings.

And I don’t remember the factual,
No ‘I am’s or ‘this is’.
There are only feels and thinks
And I feel like I think this
Is hazy.