“Where are the people
to feed me inadvertent intimacy?
People who are outside my story
but not outside
the fabric of my being.
I am perplexed
as I am depressed.
I haven’t the answer for either,
assuming they are inter-related
since I have it
first person and first hand.
I have a thirst,
standing in the same line
with a busy mind.
Can I share my need for quenching
and we go from here?
Can we respectfully journey
out from here
towards the common oasis
in all of us
and make this journey
rich with dignity
and splendid with shared arrival?
Can we spare the riddle
and spoil the child of anticipation
with expectations,
sweetly embraced beyond belief?
Never the mind
but always the feeling.
I was that child
that sent me this way.
I hid out inside myself
for cover to get here untouched
only to be here
in an untouchable momentum
but observant of slow self-demise.
I have authored
what I read to myself
and profoundly paraphrase it
to others as blunt instructions
for what I deserve.
I was smart enough
to know better
and now I am telling you
in so many words
that I was not smart enough
to escape my own storyline
and subsequent self-script.
But I am reading it out loud
inside myself
to see if anyone is listening
and can intercede
or edit my due.
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