The words are caught
at the back of my throat
like phlegm after a bad cold.
I wish they could roll out like marbles
and spread across the slate
to give meaning to emptiness.
But this instant of darkness rises
within and smothers their meaning
and the benefit of sharing.
To choke their cowardly presence I
watch the world through the window
and marvel at the clockwork lives of others.
Is there purpose left behind principle?
Will it matter now that the end is so near?
This waiting for fickle deliverance.
This search for fading confidence.
The painful pointlessness of it all.
The descent into mediocrity continues
and the world slowly spins out of control
beyond the reach of my grasping fingers.
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