get out of here; this is not enough

What is this place, this internet, this place of non-place. And why am I here? This here is nowhere.

We grope in a darkness formed of words, trying to find ourselves, to find light, to find paths, to find people, to find connection. But only darkness stretches out – only words, words, words. And we are so much more than words.

Get out of here. This is not enough. You are more than this.

But where do I go from here? It’s so cold outside.


my mama’s baby

my mama had a baby in the spring of ’68
she holds the baby in her heart, so close, her heart could break
i laugh and prattle on the phone, i hide all the ordeals
i never, never tell her all the pain that baby feels
the baby that she cuddled in the spring of ’68

November 14th, 5:05pm