It's two a.m. and I don't know where to look
for my smile
Is it in the moon
halfway to crescent
and a breakdown
in the ancient art of vibrating vocal chords
until they quiver with emotions
and nots
in the words on pages I imagine
and create
and scribble with ugly ideas
and pretty
Is it the way I mismatch corresponding colors
in a morning daze
with coffee-grumbling-tummy-empty on hyper-speed
or, am I just a simplified equation
for words to find their paper
and, where is the bottom line
when all I've worked for is something
invisible, not quite quantifiable
And, if it is
somewhere
then where am I
and where to look
and how to possibly exist
without
or, even,
with
It's two a.m. and I'm not sure I can find a way
to curl these lips to happiness
tonight
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