Clawing at the slope

When anger at the constant overlooking Seeing everyone look past and not hear me Leaves my blood no longer cooking I transition from trying to get your attention To standing quietly and looking It always felt like I am not even here Like I am a ghost You look in my direction as my cold wind hits you And I am happy that I'm noticed Only to find You're looking at someone standing behind It's not just the failing of my mind, The staring at the holes in the sieve Which have replaced a thought once held, It is what my nieces now believe As one put her hand to my face and said, "You should not speak to children." That tempts me to stop fighting, In the ever-present irony of my life As I stand ghostly in room after room While glances and words pass through me I can see how little of me you understand, And wonder how effective I could be When I seem to have had no effect on you at all Now I fall upward on that ever-steepening slope Clawing with all my might, Nails flinging detritus downward trying furiously to arrest my slide Knowing, loosing my reasons to fight, Will quicken my fall But when those who I know love me Show me again and again, That they don't even really know me Why do I continue to distain Where inevitably, we all will be.

Mental Journey

I am on a journey of the mind. Contemplating the universe on every scale, and doing a complete introspective exploration. I may never be a literary academic, but I share my humble thoughts in hope that they may inspire others.

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