In a room without a pardon
I bounce delicate words
At the white powder cinder block
Only to watch them break like China cups
And gather at the foot of these stone walls
So that my hands, half expecting
Embrace nothing in return
But so much silence can slip between sweaty palms
The spider web cracks beneath the windows
Hint of iron rust and ash revealing
And I remember
I remember to mark these words
So mark these words
With the question marks and exclamations they deserve
The synonyms I sow to reap a thousands words
A thousand words to paint a single picture
A single picture to speak a thousand words
But a thousand words that mean nothing
For a portrait of some other life
That means nothing
That leaves nothing
To be desired
But the broken chips of China
On the floor
And I know, I know
This is one lie
I’ve told a million times before
But I swear this time
It’s true