A mirror playing a silent motion picture that
Is alluring simply for the wonder it creates
Whispering
Secret messages only to those who know how
To listen to nothing at all.
So often I find my pen moving on its own
Without consulting the muscles that
Propel it forward.
Like the way my ears ring when I see you
Smile at nothing at all
No
Specifically something else that
Invisible to my eyes
Mocks me from across the room
Visions of the insane or
Simply driven by the
Unknowable
Unspeakable
Yet painful.
I don't understand why my words
Get hung up like clothes lines
After a summer storm
Dripping with precipitation
And glittering
But tangled just the same.