Lost.

Is it deeper than that shallow puddle of small talk raining down from open mouths who have forgotten how to listen to the intent behind it all?

Triviality at best and I am going to scrape the salt left behind off my skin from too much sweat and tears, tearing my good from my nature.


Foreseen trepidation and discovered indifferences to the realness of the raw emotions between eye to eye conversations built upon shaky pillars.

Inquisitive eyes and a brow down-turned despite deliberate arms open, I cannot prove trust to the untrusting souls cut from stoic stone faces.

Explanations are unnecessarily stacking up like unpaid bills being spoken to a Van Gogh ear, chapped lips drink water from such shallow puddles.

You think so?