Prosey poetry and free verse.
Unapologetically real recovery.
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
Out of step with life, the mainstream passing
by like ghosts or shadows. I can see them
but I'm not sure I am real to any one else.
Their mouths move, but silence clangs in my ears.
Conversation with self makes sense
but is unheard by others.
Putting one foot in front of the other,
trying not to trip over the ones of
those who don't seem to see
me. (Written for Midnight Snack #3, 9/20/11)