Don't ask me, what you know is true
I am defined by my words. Without them I am unraveled and nonsensical. To be colored inside the lines, my own lines, is very important to me, and right now, there are lines all over and they go nowhere and define nothing.
I want to send out a bottle with a very important message, but I'm not sure what it is, or if I do, then I'm somehow irrationally scared to actually say it.
Have no doubt, when I do, I'm sure that it will shake the reality of a few,
or,
perhaps not.
This is where I waver, between being something,
and being completely eclipsed by nothing.
And yet, the image still shimmers, and yet, I am still waiting for the feast, and yet, I have something to say.
