Written by: Effie Blake

there are stealth
sound waves which whisper
"all efforts are in vain"

misinterpreted parts
of a sore whole
are only vaguely seen

just a shape shifting action
figure fighting empty causes
in essence fighting self

runs a treadmill to some
goal born in a caste

finding hope
is wedding a spouse
for an indefinite amount of time

reach for love
wave off hate
grope through ambivalence

take the junk mail survey
find a voice
minus hands, try to count