and what, sat

[two hundred, sixty-seven]

motions, it looks like
to everybody else and I sit there sort of like
like a cough, held back but a little too loud,
and since I couldn't, I didn't,
but everyone else moved out of the way,
and everyone else looked back at me,
and asked me with their eyes,
but alas, I couldn't,
I couldn't see.

but it was just be coughing, I said,
what about being accepted?
nobody looked back anymore, I think,
but how would I know,
how would anybody know in such a dark
sick and dusty whirlwind of
nothing really,
well sometimes something,
and they sparkle,
but mostly just nothing.

I see things like a movement, a motion,
so people don't realise I do,
although only sometimes,
but detail faded, it looks like
like a dusty, dormant, mundane, dull,
blunt, emotionless, loveless,
discontent.
unsatisfied, always,
and yet, I see more everyday,
and I see more everyday.

focus: the lack of sight of people versus my literal lack of sight.

oh baby,

Jess :]