No, I can’t explain the way it feels.
I can point a finger at myself and say
This is why. This is how.
This is what I’ve done.
But I’ve held my breath and kept
My thinking tethered to dreams
Scattered along the floor like
Petals from a wilting rose.
who can speak of judgment
who knows what I deserve
save myself
save myself
knowing all and forgetting nothing

I’ve run from the sounds of
my own footfall, desperate and lost,
my edges blurred against the grand
backdrop, this complex and static stage
on which I tiptoe
whispering my lines

I’ve written words that will
never swim across the twin
green galaxies for which they were
destined. Instead they sink below
the sea and soon nothing will remain
save myself
save myself