Introversion
Where did I stand before I was
found: I am not
sure I called a world
& sense of toward
to fix me into the wait.
What is loneliness
for one
pointed in
the place called for
lost every word.
Why choose.
I might not
sometimes: I need
to forget I was born,
eliminate that
from what I’m thinking about
a self indistinguishable
the liquidity in
all directions. I know I
came even
if I can’t remember
where from. Mostly I walk
alone with more than I need
rehearsing something
I knew
before I spoke.
Sense, Since
Is neither made nor found.
Is the word and the space
and every move to erase
what knows me so
touch rubs it in.
Translates not now, now, now
but I, I, I,
presses the ghost
below my skin. What I know
has undone those
I rely on for a sense of
yet. There was a moment
yes. I mistook it.
Thought myself calling out
a sign I believed
rather than
not. The unreligious pray
loudest, disguise
calls with
bets. Lately I wake trying
lines word
for word, their own title.
The word would be word.
Just one. I have learned it.
