A peg of person
Hanging on my word
Show'd itself to me
Wooden, carved roughly
Surfaced on linen, varnish
He felt nothing to me, at me
He told me riddle body *****
I ignored, bored hated words of worry
But felt them myself, little
And trembling lumps of merryweather met us
But we came to a pond, and drank the green green wealth
We spun a little, splashed like ripples do
Onto a blank canvas of a conversation
Muddy murky words came out
'*** *** ***' little bee, buzz for pollen, buzz for me
I couldn't. I'm not.
I'm not another, you're different, distinto
I'm feeling nothing, angsty man,
Through rides and fairgrounds together
I found a lost child, and he set me
I told you who I am and I found me.
Roughly cut, varnished wooden man
Burned in envy, dusted away
I felt nothing, watched his anguish
And figured, hammered, rutted out
A sense of self-belonging,
I guess we don't belong, I guess we make our own self-pity,
But at least we know.
I said goodbye, he did not, I left the day before yesterday
I wrote a confusing poem to figure it out
And people read it
Quietly I confined myself to words and Bibles written for me
For a bitter version of myself
I burned away, burned away,
Burned my, burned my burned away.
I've figured a lot of stuff out lately. I have a complicated life. Poetry is one of my many ways of dealing with my mind.