When I turn the moments into words
and when I grasp every little sound.
When I think, and in my head
my voice echoes loudly against the boundaries of my skull.
When I speak and I listen to the music coming out of my mouth
blending with the space I’m in.
When I touch and the feeling breeds words
while I’m desperately trying to focus.
When I observe the play; other people living what I’m not
a poet’s heavy curse and sin.
I see what you don’t.
I feel what you can’t.
I am what you are not.