an ill fit


too bumpy, i think.
too pointy and sharp.
too wild and yet too
restrained. too much,
but missing just one
thing to be just enough.

i don't mean to hurt,
but i don't fit here
and i don't fit there
and i can't be in that
other place and they
don't want me anywhere

i know i'm supposed to
be alive. if not, i'd
be someone's memory by
now, the ghost that haunts
someone late at night when
all ghosts come out of hiding
and rattle their chains after
a long day of sharpening their

instead i feel like the living
dead, at home nowhere, always
longing to belong somewhere.

maybe it's just the day, ya think?
the sky turning sullen and dark
after the brilliant night. did
you see the moon? i sang to it
and to the cat that wound around
my legs as i sat outside at work.

the cat likes me. we meow to each
other and exchange comments on our
views from the places we are.

it doesn't matter and it never has.
the truth is that i have remained
always alone because i just don't
fit with anyone.

just once i'd like to feel that i
am a part instead of apart.


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