aiming
vectors at a wall
every day which passes
i feel less and less a part
of your world – this world of
interpersonal communications
in which i float, lost in the maze.
i constantly experiment with
emotional and social vectors
inside my mind; this mind, whose
internal causal connections
are my basis, serves only to constrict.
i live in continuous frustration
as the world fails to give an inch
against my will – this will that
grows weary of infinite battles
which end in stasis, erasing remnants of desire.
every day, i wish for an end
to the blackening cloud overhead.
-undated, probably 1997-1998
author's note: just another one of those "working my way out" poems.