Misdirected? Disaffected?
Is it everything
you ever expected?
Man, I don't know much
I just clutch
onto the things I once
thought I knew
And all I know is this-
I feel
so disconnected
from the real,
from my own story
no matter what
I can't put the pieces
back together,
severed
like a broken jigsaw puzzle
with one thousand pieces,
too many pieces of me
are missing. I keep wishing
they'll turn up some place
under a stack of unsent letters
encased, unfettered
or in a box of photos
tucked between two books
I need to get out of my head
I need to look
deeper
I need to look back
and start again from there
from where I began
this time last year
and give it all up again
everything that
enslaves and opresses
my soul
like these expressions
that I sold
on to you- reader;
I still don't know
much.
