Deluded, denuded & tired…

Movement becomes insufficient,
meaning resists ease, resists
everything…

All I really want to know is
why this sense of absence seems
unending,

why the presence of nothing &
the sound of silence feels like
negation.

A clumsy succession of steps
finally leads me to this
conclusion:

that words bring only paradox;
revelation & abstract
nausea…

Numb witness to a meaningless
scene, I am just a day-dream
memory

of minor-chord longing for you
& of all the things I will
never do.

The rain flies hard & wild against
the window, as the Sun flees
from the sky;

feeling rages behind tired
eyes, & I try to convince
myself that

I’m always asking myself

“Why,

why,

why?”

only because I’m

deluded

denuded

& tired.

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