I am not a graceful spin.
I am a clumsy stumble in an empty hall.
I am not a bulls eye, the perfect shot.
I am a drunken trigger with no compass.
I am not a quiet Sunday tea.
I am an abandoned street corner storm.
I am not the clear ring of a bell.
I am a muffled gun shot, a harsh whisper.
I am not a smooth sea.
I am a sea of white caps and broken ships.
I am not anything, the stars or the sea.
I am nothing, the oblivion, the empty.
I cannot sleep because your words haunt my dreams.