the problem she said
is simply that there
is nothing here
Words: Zilch
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the problem she said
is simply that there
is nothing here
insistent
infernal
humming
in my
head
distracted
dissonance
strumming
on my
soul
rapid
racing
thrumming
of my
heart
you are driving
me longingly insane
crumbling face
eroding
beneath
wind
rain
broken
breaking
crashing down
Uninformed
unable to discern
what it is I am
or need to be
neither this;
nor that;
ambivalent
vacillating
pseudo humanoid
uniformly
others appear
certain of
everything
when I have
no clue at all
half in;
mostly not:
shedding skin
I remain
potential
unformed.
12 ounces
of golden oak
topped with steel
visions
dancing dreams
of garden sheds
foundation
battened walls
fresh cut wood
gabled
red metal roof
rising tall
hot sun
beer for the builder
measured twice
and still
somehow askance.