some of me

some days they come

pouring out of me
in such a deluge that every
surface reflection turning
into an opportunity 
a need 

my words always more than

my life

at least

how should I live it
disjointed and shamblebodied?
do you remember that
was I ever that?

the words always only 

trying to lead this life

by turn i deny

every instinct

escapes but shrouded 

i’ve gotten good at

always have been

hide in plain sight

the words on the page

sometimes it doesn’t take too much

reading between the lines 

growing from some unknown 

originally the intention

what was it?

again?

the same as before?

a parable paraboling across

a million words

sampling of

some ideas

some thoughts

some feelings

some of me

I cannot say.