hit and run

these words, they hit and run,
words that hit, and don’t sit
to see what happens next,
words that run, and miss out on the fun
and fear of judgement.

words that have no meaning,
so you make your own.
words that carry no feelings,
so you make your own.
words that don’t tell you who I am,
so you make your own
me

not zen

in this moment,
I am not zen.
I can see the world,
and the world can see me.

I am not zen,
I am dead inside.
not a little,
but a lot.

I am dead to this box,
and this box dead to me.
there is no flow,
the movement is not symphony
as I pry my fingers against these keys.

even though the box complies,
I am not satisfied.
I am not happy.
I am at a loss, so no,
in this moment,
I am not zen.