Tell me this,
why is it that
in immortalizing
my thoughts into
words, they make
more of an impact
than when they spew
from my lips?

My heavy heart
on paper with ink
or in type--black on
white--somehow are
more symbolic of my
pain and suffering
than the tears I shed
alone in my dark room.

The consequences of
daily living are the most
brutal, I suppose. In
some cynical fashion,
typing it out numbs the
ordeal...hoping for a
soul or two to relate to.
Maybe, just for a night, a
connection...some other
nebula of mind and body
to share our baggage.