My heart’s in heavy motion—
like a pendulum I sway,
back and forth, regardless of
the shadows of the day.
Would it hurt you to feel better?
Is it sadness or just sad?
I play this broken record till
it doesn’t sound that bad.
When questions sound like answers
it’s there I feel at home, but
impressions get mistaken for
first readings of a poem.
It’s how I’ve formed the theory
that everyone’s alone,
perhaps then not a pendulum—
I’m an ever sinking stone.