Scattered

Scattered
As if every thought
Every stream of consciousness
Is to no avail
And I know not who I am
I have only ever learned
To examine myself in pieces
Lost fragments of time and space
That do not quite match up anymore
But my puzzle is beyond scattered
So far lost and broken
That to start anew
Would be much more sensible
Than to search for myself
In the nooks and crannies
Of this mundane world
Straining to see
The distant pops of color
That might still be lingering
Somewhere within
The soiled depths of my mind

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54 thoughts on “Scattered

  1. Your very good at painting pictures–step outside yourself a tiny bit and realize we are all in the same place–now or once upon a time, always, sometimes and include the world when you speak, if that feels good to you.

  2. This is wonderful, and full of a truth which I can certainly recognise…..somewhere among the nooks and crannies….but such an effort to search! The poem has a lovely pace which gathers us along 🙂

  3. A very good poem! I really enjoyed experiencing within you what I myself can relate with. You have great depth and self-awareness. You have the ability to express you personal struggles with beauty, allowing the reader to feel warmly invited into the heart of who you are.

  4. You know I really resonated with this line “To examine myself in pieces” The written word has a way of placing you in the midst of your own stuff while wearing someone else’s robe and slippers. Very nice poem, thanks for sharing it with us.

  5. Thanks for taking me along on this trip. Your words take me someplace other and yet the same place. Will definitely continue witnessing your journey.

  6. The rhythm of this one supports the sentiment to help readers feel what you felt. Cheer up, your brain and heart are not soiled anymore, or you could not have written so well. OK maybe extremely rattled people can write wild stuff like Kerouac or Ginsberg, so either you’re the next great emotional beat poet, or you’re able to tap into a large stream of genius that surpasses any soil in a “let’s sublimate it” way, or you’re all better and writing of a very difficult past in a very lucid lyrical way.

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