A pile with lots of small jigsaw puzzle pieces having a gray back and a front picture made of cyan and green colors. They are arranged in the shape of a heart, on a white background.


I can’t find it

A way to connect

To you

Or them

Or that teacher who is preaching

or that preacher who is “teaching”

Myself, even?

I can’t describe the distaste 

And white-hot frustration

A grit I cannot scratch off my teeth or lick off my lips

A bitter

Bitter grit 

That isn’t enough

Grasping at straws

Those damned slippery straws


My pen hits the paper


Glides and sprints and dashes across the lines and folds and doodles I scratched

When I could no longer listen to them

ALL of them

And even you 

And especially myself 

So my fingers drill the keys

And my eyes scan the lines

And pages

And novels 

And series and libraries

Libraries filled with tales and tactless endeavors and calculations

So many fucking calculations

But I still can’t find it


A master observer

Maybe that’s all I am

And ever will be

Because I still just cannot find it 

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