I rage
In frustration

I cry
in frustration

talking
is the
beginning
of the storm
a few
dark clouds
from a
few
forgotten words
I knew
ten
seconds ago

the storm intensifies

an attempted
story
explanation
question
answer
yet
comprehension
is a rare jewel
still
hidden
in
the
mud

too fast
too slurred
too loud
too quiet

not enough patience
not enough words
not enough listeners
not enough time

the tornado begins
and ends the same
with a rush of
inability
and
embarrassment
and
wonder

why

I am
too frequently
the source of
mine