Silence is never silence. The Continuing

Silence is never silence. The Continuing Misadventures of Andrew, the Headless Talking Bear

Humiliation comes from walking backwards
down the wrong hallway, day in and day out.

Everything I do is wrong.
I guess I shouldn't have admitted that.
And probably, I shouldn’t have corrected myself.
Shoot.

All I do is go around making mistakes:
I say wrong things, exhibit poor judgment, and then
waste large amounts of time worrying about these mistakes.

Many years from now, an older version
will see all this as just one tired beginning.

There is nothing, there is nothing
I love, there is nothing
I love more, there is
nothing I love more than, there is.

I wanted to want you- like the proverbial
deer caught in the headlights, I, a pronoun lost.

I wanted to hold out my hand and say
“this hand…” without a trace of irony.

It’s been hurting for so long now-
where do you go from here? How do you turn
this abstract longing for Something into a plotline?

It’s certainly no small comfort just to know
everything is different now, the light,
the lack of light, the lack of breathable air.

Thinking, why? What did I ever do to deserve.
this. Did I murder someone in a past life?