I'm trying, it seems

to write

to keep a thousand journals at once

I want to write you see

about something, anything, everything

nothing

and I do

And still, I feel I don't say enough

The words are essential

to keeping my spirit alive

with great illusion I choose my words

extracating them as needles from a haystack

lost thoughts become errors on the page

And still I feel I don't

say enough

The outward expressions of my body

become words

expressed with lyrical abandon

I think

And still I feel

I never say enough

The cold wind bruises my mind

I slip through my thoughts

skidding on them in the dark

clinging to ellusive phrases

creating false hope for a beautiful creation

that will captivate the mind

And which will still

never say enough.

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