Too Much Information
Like a lost child
or a bumpy car.
I jolt around,
banging into people.
"Are you my mammy?"
Craving closeness
and warm touch,
I come on too strong,
revel too much.
Information that is
just the truth.
Of my restless, sexless,
search for you.
The you who
might care for me.
The me that won't
be bowed or tamed.
The me who
is not ashamed.
Of who I am,
or what's beneath.
The "too much
information speech."
If you're out there,
please come forward.
Before I fool
myself and others.
With cling on desire
to any who care.
To take advantage
of me... anywhere.
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