Chat Room Loneliness

Information in containers
like ink inside a squid—
It's only used as subterfuge
so forms can swim well-hid.

Such clever little twists of wit,
such claims upon the heart—
When things are much more interesting
before these patterns start.

To be not heard
must mean you're insignificant—
To be not heard
must mean that you're the world.

Those empty mason jars like skulls,
I feel I've been deceived—
I've missed the essence of myself:
there's more to be believed!

My movie is an epic one
of pyramids and sighs—
But it only seems my own under
possessive lovers' eyes.

To be not heard
must mean you hadn't heard a thing—
To be not heard
must mean your ears can sing.

There's more than just these eyes that throb,
there is a larger system—
To use my hands as if a God,
a spark in some vast piston.

I tour this dark aquarium
and see my strangeness clear—
A scared and lonely nautillus
that always disappears.

To be not heard
must mean that no one's listening—
To be not heard
must mean the angels miss nothing.