Untitled
(Written 4/28/97)

An anxious numbness works through my veins,
escapes though the pores and works it's way to my skin.
it's constant shuddering, it quakes me.
I've got almost everything I've wanted,
it still means nothing.
I still feel like nothing.
The nothingness that has consumed me before,
didn't leave me after all.

The borders of the puzzle of me are solid,
yet there is no pieces of the picture.
I'm missing so many pieces,
lost, I don't know.
I just keep staring off into the distance,
hoping, and hoping that they might show up.
Hoping I haven't lost my hope either

 

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Joshua S. Bell
icbod@spy.net