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nothing
The words just don't spew out of me
like they did before.
It's not that they're not there it's just that I've learned
that feeling isn't thinking
and seeing isn't believing,
and I'm breathing but that isn't anything
of value to anyone and nothing
can fix me, and all the glue in the world
can't put me back together,
and all the whiskey and all the water
can clean me, and all the ink and all the dirty fucking graphite
aren't enough to put my fucking thoughts down into words.
Because words mean nothing and they never did
and actions mean nothing because it was action that hid
my purest form of depression, I admit
I am defeat.
"...Words mean nothing and they never did..."
Wallace Stevens posits that words will reach "almost" to man - but can never "be" the thing (or the man). Words are symbols and can not be the things they describe or tell. So, you are right. Thought provoking write and welcome to Postpoems - Lady A
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