hi i feel like                                                    
a part of me has
sunken for couple of months.
sometimes i try to sleep
late at night, staring
into my dead computer screen
hoping for some kind of instant
fizz from my fingers to type furiously.
otherwise, it's all just one liners broken
off with a dead-end. i feel like i've been
stuck in a rut for far too long. trying to
get back into writing and hoping to
say a hey, hi, hello to the writer in myself
some time soon.

Nobody talks long enough to comfort me
Nobody stays long enough to help me
Nobody looks long enough to notice me
Nobody cares for long enough to love me

The hair is almost normalized,
The hands we hardly notice,
Real news is, with my ensemble,
A red tie splashes well.
I bear your false witness,
The hookers and the lies,
I'd get the heebie-jeebies,
If I ****** with the FBI.

But the skin, the skin,
What color's that,
That hides the blackness found within.
That wraps a frame that wracks the sane,
And covers a skull with dubious brains.
It conceals the bloated air,
From lungs to lips,
From bowels to his finger tips.
It doesn't matter how his fits,
It can't conceal he's full of ****.

Little cracks like weeping windows
we grow opaque
and under the pale blue moon
(tainted)
you seep into my soul


© A. Leigh