I've got three places to write.

[newsclippings]

I've got three places to write,
but no place to write.
An emotional coward
keeps what people see
arranged, in tight-knit-nets of
half-truths, perfectly weathered
well-thought-out indecencies.

When he stops paying attention
I want the attention so I strip
for pixelated squares, for wanting
eyes 30 years older than mine.
And I blame my other for not knowing
of me, not communicating with me--
truth is I won't have him figure it out.

The problem is.
No, the problem is I can't express
my inching indifference,
nor my paralyzing fear of
falling in.
Falling out.