listening I'm listening to the speeches in my head
I'm listening to the phrases formed by me

they describe the weather
the moon, the chill of the air
the phrases describe emotion
longing, needing, wanting
fear, anguish, waiting

phrases turn in my head
like water scratching the beach
like tumbleweeds of fur
under my sofa

they never stop
only sometimes I catch them
sometimes they are 3rd person
sometimes direct conversations

my life my life, they say
is lost and directed,
my life is empty and full
focus faith and fretting
lost limited and habitual
my life is up for grabs

wrenching I pull myself out of
slumps I pull myself through
pushing I push myself and
then I stop, dig in, wallow
rise or fall depends on the moon

such potential, they say,
such waste

willing willing myself to listen
let them talk

tart citrus rain their speech is
bitter and true

I pry my words from my memory
are they mine?
is it someone else's voice?
someone else's baggage?
I can only carry my own, and
even that I am unwilling.

something must be true
complete and true
without question
that is the yearning
the root of my faith
one giant wish for consistency