I can’t put into words the things I need to say…
Formless and devoid of any definition.
My life has become as a wandering sphere.
Empty and aimless with no where to go.
No power over nor held captive by any fear.
Look for me where you left me last.
But I swear I won’t stay there long.
Find me where you’d never expect.
But even those assumptions are wrong.
Scattered thoughts all gone awry.
Complete chaos in the calmest sense.
I couldn’t give you an answer if you asked.
I’m too relaxed to be this tense.
I can’t form the thoughts I know are there.
At least I think they’re there lingering.
I can feel their presence with no identity.
They’re just there waiting, wandering.
I can feel them pressing me.
They’re trying to emerge.
But I won’t let them out.
I always suppress the urge.
If you read me like a book.
You’d have to crack my code.
I process more like a computer.
You have to wait for me to load.
I write in cryptics and barriers.
Forcing you to give me time.
Or forcing you to break them down.
Decoding ever word, every rhyme.
You won’t take the time to get to know me.
I can tell you that right now.
I’m too complex and too diverse.
Yet far too simple, somehow.
I lack the words to write the climax of my story.