August 6, 2010

no one in or out

Missing steps
Like missing notes
And missing children
The potential
Of new things
Bathed in light

Terribly lost

Gathered my senses
Placing them in small boxes
With their pictures
Displayed on the side
Data and graphs tell the story
And tamper-proof seals

Mistakenly lost

My own growth
From rubble and dust
Van Gogh visits in dreams
And I cut off my ears
Never to twist with words again
I hear nothing

Lost at sea

My skin is swollen with wet
White tissue blurs
No penetration of thought
In this drowning skin
Nothing gets out
No one gets in

Finding lost

The music is in my head
On repeat and repeated
Trying to put each note away
With the letters and sentences
That imply so much more
My loss is my grace

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