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my words
do not seem
to work for me
any longer. 
            i try, but
        they are dry and 
 useless.
    meaningless.
  
how do i say
what i feel?
how can i express
what i do not know?

my thoughts drift. 
i write
    and rewrite.
 things come to mind that i 
                                      wish i could say.

how do you put into words
the wanderlust that seizes you
when you hear that song, when
    you think of her?
how do you explain memories that
     you’ve never made?
daydreams become so deeply ingrained into my subconscious that 
       it’s
          like
              they’re
                  real.

this is word art, now.
choppy. maybe pleasing to look at.
maybe it hurts your eyes.
    i (don’t)
        care.

i imagine things so much 
they become old memories.

but words are meaningless
and so is
      the way i write.
  i wish to make you cry and laugh with what i write.
i wish to be good at what i try to do.

        what are my thoughts?

     it’s late, now. 
  a daydream flits through my head.

                               “lie to me,” she whispered.
                                     “you’re beautiful,” he answered.

it’s my imagination, but
     i have a very good imagination.

goodnight world. 
--2.5.18