None                                                 (December 16, 2005)

There are no words.
None.
No sentences, paragraphs.
I can�t find a topic
or construct a thesis.
I see no truth,
no purpose, no pattern.
My car gets stuck, my closet
breaks, my tub is dirty,
and all the while
the heating bill is due, and
it�s more than I can bear.
I eat alone, sleep alone,
but mostly think alone,
and my mind is a big, echoing
chamber, with demons
and imps inside every crevice.
My decisions, though sprung
from much thought, follow
no logic. There are no dots
to connect or numbers to paint.
My bathroom is cold, my neighbors
are noisy, I seem to have
a mouse, and my doctor has put
me on more pills. Sometimes
sleep cannot come quickly enough.
There�s nothing out there, where
water meets sky, calling me,
pulling me, inspiring me.
There are no words.
None.
Poetry

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