Why this need inside

and this desire

and this hopeless hapless compunction

to spell this out

compelled to flow outside and divide

an estuary

crashing from tips

and strips the simple

muddies up and clears the way

all these words that cannot stay

an inhale followed by exhale

a force pulling and pushing creating voids

of once poised and pointed guards

that were once fixed to stand aside

wound up tight with information

sounding out the shapes

forming all the images

whispering broken threads that once sang


falling in this frequency

charged and sweeping endlessly

finding that the answer

nearly naked and invisible

emerged and identified

securing specific communications

and closed the gap of forever

twisting determinedly

successfully mapping and coding

this ending to my beginning

starting somewhere in the middle

swimming through this dark

to touch the light.






Author: doing2016

I started writing when I was very young. Then I was mortified on a bus full of people when one of my stories was read aloud. I lost my focus and quit. Now, I'm trying to find my voice and my ambition. I love to write, good or bad. So, I'm doing it here and now. Thank you.

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