the death of commentary 4/13/20

I would like to describe

by behaviors I've seen in the past

I sense the words coming out

but heaving less weight once spoken

then they were when I thought them

I feel like bus fumes 

after the bus of verbiage has passed

there are mosquitos of distain in the room

I want for the sense of open air again

I tried to think of quite different in the next moment

a form of escape without actual movement involved

how does calm look on me now?

based upon internal chemicals

I'd say I'm in transition

even if I give off a sooth for appearance sake

I don't like to be an observing person

creating observations to comment on

finds me eventually

in a dastardly state internally

appraisal of others is too self revealing

it is the curse of mirror-time

subtly confessed to others

who are smart enough to decode 

what I have just said

they are the worst in their silence for then

for me, commentary is all curse words spoken

I am a restoration work in progress

but my tools of commentary

reveal my lack of self in discovery

I am the weathering of a billboard existence

my only hope is the birds will come

and nest on my backside

and I, in my quiet innocence 

will learn more deeply about myself

for silence like that

can be so loud 

as to get through to me

so as I can grow up 

and miraculously have wings . . .