The State of Waiting

the State of Waiting chips the paint off my Soul,

my body askes where can I go?

the mind states no Direction, claiming it doesn't know.

The State of Wanting leaves a heat too hot,

I will the world, bend to this plea of small

As you leave me be, all alone save my shadows on the wall.

In darkness I see sculptures of your face

all with a back drop of static

because this bit was left unscripted

as a feeling unfelt before

so much so that the unknown is knowing.

A deeper emotional irrationality,

seems to say, it wouldn't have mattered anyway.