typing at my computer screen is as poetic as I'll ever be...
|I'm sitting here typing in front of a computer screen,
My fingers type into words the images my mind has seen.
I lift my legs as if they are no longer a part of me,
I am only thought, imagination, my mind is free.
I move my lips and my eyes, blankly staring, begin to burn,
But I don't register my senses, life's a game and it's no longer my bodies turn.
I sit here, right here, and I type things people won't read,
Like a preacher speaking warnings to a crowd who will not heed.
The things that are me, don't matter to those who don't exist,
So far away, such a vast desolation, like voices speaking from the mist.
I read their words but they don't seem anything but insubstantial,
And reading them was at best, completely circumstantial.
As if it's chance that I recieve a viewing, as if it's chance and nothing more,
No matter how I view the world, no matter how wide I open the door.
Is it so hard that my poem get's lost,
Will it ever be read by or will it fade like the frost.
Never meaning anything to anyone anywhere,
When I say anything, does anyone ever care?
As I'm sitting here, so uncertain, my eyes reflect the monitors glow,
I feel like I'm unsure, like there is nothing I truly know.
My future is at best, misted and unclear,
My head is full of mystery and my heart is full of fear.
I try to understand my feelings as I sit here so far away,
I try to undertstand the things that I'm truly trying to say.
In the end I finally get no where, and that is from where I began,
I just wish, with all my heart, that I could finally understand.