so uncertain
am i
living with
constant perplexities
of a mind

when it is alone
(my mind that is)
it wills itself to see fairness
and beauty
purity and innocence

when it is alone

but confronted with reality
it self destructs
contorts its myriad facets
its various paradoxes
into stuttered words
confused ideas
and
an overall image

of

stupidity

talk to her
the phone dies
with my silence
i want to say
this
but i say
that
and
so

i live only the most
cumbersome of clichés

put a feather in my hair
hoping -
it'll spawn a wing
and my mind will fly off
to higher territory
eternal plains where
it will never have to be
cumbersome
ever again.

---

Comment on this poem... - your honest comments may be the only things that keep me going!
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