I feel like
I’m at the center of everything
everything’s happening all at once
and everything’s passing through me
and the farthest I can get sometimes
is ask, why me?
Why do I have to feel so much
why do I feel like
I need to know so much
why can’t I leave things alone
why can’t I accept things as they are
why am I so dissatisfied?
I’m looking for someone to love.
No, scrap that.
I’m looking for something to write about.
No, I take that back too.
I need something
I don’t know what
but I’ll know it when I see it
I hope so
or isn’t that what bothers me?
Crying at the top of my lungs
to the white face of silence
that mocks my many wants
until my throat is hoarse
and my fingers have calluses
and I am covered in words
and for what? for what?
no one knows me.
You came so close
without realizing it
without trying to
and I have to pay for it
all by myself
with no one to hold me
only these walls
only these words that are bruised
from overuse.