Alien

People ask why I speak

in broken sentences,

incoherent,

fragmented,

then

sometimes crystal clear.

 

My words are

a product

of

a mind under stress.

Frantic searching,

communication,

connection,

the only way I can.

 

Not otherwise

specified,

never fitting,

unbelonging…

 

A fearful hand

reaching out.

 

Be careful with your comments,

I sponge them up

and spew

them back into the world.

 

They become

what I write:

Tattered words,

by an alien

consuming

all it gets.

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