Ever wonder who's on the other end of these poems
Are they really human? Possibly clones?
Maybe a bunch of chimps in a dank room typing away
And after months of randomness, they conjure something clever to say
Some people are probably just busy, others insecure
That's one weakness every poet can relate to, I'm sure
But for a bunch of lonely souls, just longing to feel connected
It's amazing how many times I've reached out, only to be rejected
This place, this space, some people just seem so hollow
And you wonder to yourself,
do I even want to be followed?

~
The arithmetic of murky waters
Is not so clear

Neither are my chances of survival

Here is me
Face down in urgent sea

My wave
My grave
My gateway, perhaps

Whatever the consequence
Suffering is the new salvation

It all adds up
Sum how?
Sum way?

And if I was your ship
Destined to flounder
In the wide open drink

You'd re-enter the equation
And find a way to pull me through

Just so we could once more
Make the hurting count
~

A poem half made
is like bread still dough
like a bed unmade
like half a mo
A poem half done
is like a shade of day
with half the sun
A kiss, an inch away
A poem undone
Is a four moon phase
a count to one
a ‘mil’ out of place
A poem half finished
is like a tin of spinach
still unopened
and an expired usage
A poem not a