Can’t really
Seem to
Focus

When straining
Just feels
So natural

Content
While growing
Abandoned

Heightened
By a quiet
Which screams

As if killing me
Loudly
With blankness

Between walls
Who tell me
Their wishes

For souls
Our paints
Do envision

By filling
Their cracks
With a sound –

As lies
Of colorless
Spaces

Ring
From words
Of distinction

Uncovered
In silence
Exposing

What layers
Of hurt
Scream beneath,

Struggling
Like skills
Without purpose

Wondering
How phrases
Will answer

When nerves
Confessing their
Failures

Spill verbage
As dead
As this dream.

Dizziness
Nausea
And chest pains,

Loneliness
Habits
Obsessions –

I’m convinced
God’s ready
To end this

So why
Am I wading
Through angst?

Major
In business
At college.

Marry
And settle
For something.

Life
Is no fun
For a writer –

Let’s say
We leave it
At that.

– J. Pigno