When a heart
forgets
how to heart

A mind how
to
mind

A logic
how to
logic

A human
how to
align with
all the above

I caught my breath
chasing after another

I put my hand on my chest
to tame a raging heart

"Calm down ******"
I said

"But I'm falling"
it replied

They drop
traumas
like
r
r                                         i
                                           i

                                                              ­                        n
                                       ­                                                n
                                a
                             ­    a

Why does my mind
race
without running shoes
to exhaust the
thought of
over-thinking?

Maybe my poems
have fallen on deaf ears
to a point
where
they lost
their
voice

Why not.
Not why.

The words fall short
of their meaning
the one beyond the read

The lines weaken
and leave the reader
with a sense of boredom

The heartbeat
only in that cage
and fails to bleed
on pages

The papers
become satiated
with empty ink
lacking quality

The poet
loses him/her/them self/ves
in that limbo
between
head
and heart
running on a treadmill
trying to catch the fleeting muses

The poet dilutes
in reality
his/her/their greatest
fear
for that is
what they
try to escape
in every
poem