There’s a girl I know on Mars
Who wears tube socks
With everything she wears,
No matter if they’re stretched out or not.
There, the wind barely blows,
It barely even whistles.
But she doesn’t like her feet
To get cold.

Every time we talk,
We talk about everything
And nothing.
She sits at home and watches
The stars from her window,
Swinging one of her legs
From the arm of the couch.

I told her that I’d mail her a new
Pair of socks if I could find
A pair with Mars on them,
And a pair that had the moon
Printed on them.
Especially that far out, I bet they’re
Hard to find.

Maybe I’d settle for a pair myself,
To see what she sees in these things,
After all, she always wears them.
Maybe I’ll get her a pair that stretches
To her knees,
A solid color to match her couch,
To hide the red dirt that creeps
In her house.

After all, we’re human.
We need something that connects us
To who we are, who we used to be.
Anything to make us feel
More important than what we are

Question
Shame eyes overted sudden noise
Buzzing in the back of the brain
The hook is left hanging submerged in the water
Fogging the thoughts until they disappear
Words ran away at a thought of being spoken
Thoughts those complex layers of
Experience feelings impulses values
So much insight and potential
Running out the door
Atom by atom splitting hanging in the air above
Spoken sounds are escaping the tongue
Oh what a torture to be at a mercy of
Limitations
Unknowing and lost in the bubble with only self
And the gaping hole of loneliness
And everything unsaid

Through acceptance i find my way
To only that within the grasp
The truth begging to be said
When in no doubt
Or finding dignified peace in silence