epigraph

The words
Are lost to me
As
Thoughts
To the madman
Rocking
And muttering
It smells
Of mosh pits
And cherry lemonade
Pleasant incoherence
And the falling
Doesn’t mean that much
And the failings is
Directly about
My concentration
I
Haven’t the words
Words
Words
w-o-r-d-s
Or the coherence
To manipulate
Nonsensical jumbles
the tank on empty
And I’m stuck
Where the motor
Dies
Thumb raised
I stand on
Dead end highways
Never moving
Luckily
This piece begins
With an epigraph
And that
Like a compass
May lead me
Somewhere