Writings from Elsinore I Don't Feel Like Talking | Page 8

my dream comrade is a seahorse

4

We won't talk about it. I once thought

everyone knew what wasn't being said

and just continuing to refrain from

speaking, but now I'm not so sure.

The way my father looks at me,

I swear, he thinks my head is empty.

Someday we'll have to put it into words

or maybe we'll never have to.

I don't think I'd be the first to try.H

When I start to consider the

unsayable things, I have to stop

because I see an ocean of language

I knew but never used, spreading

so far.

Is this a half-life, am I a half-gir l?

A half-person. I would be if only

half

the language was missing. But it's more.

I'm a fraction of a person, drowning

now in the sea of words and

I am unable to tread water.

I can't imagine now being a whole.

I can't say I know anyone who is.

Then again I don't know many people.

There's a feeling of confusion.

Wanting to move on but not sure how

with this observation imprinting itself

onto my bones. Is this nonsensical?