a plethora of words
finds little space.
choking in congestion
covered by the phlegm--
of unrealized emotion;
as one counts syllables,
another measures meter
and art is suffocated
by the saturation--
of perceived perfection.
while I am deluged,
left drowning--
in all that I have not written,
but desperately yearn--
to release;
where the sum--
of disconnected parts
must surely equal
the totality of my own--
poetic imperfections;
but will ultimately record--
the truthful essence
of self...
Honorable mention
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