-- Spaces

This is the "final installment"* of a series. See Part I, II, III, IV, & V. (*Quotation marks denote lighthearted self-mockery)

Dear                  ,

What do you see in these words?

Comprehension, expression, catharsis?

What more are words,

But ink droplets, coerced into shapes,

Forced into ideas.

No, idea.

What do you connote with connotations?

Words (and again words) of people

You don’t know. I don’t know.

I don’t                             .

            ("Red")

The ocean. It feels red.

Does it feel red?

Full. Of meanings you don’t mean.

Feelings you don’t feel.

Thoughts you don’t think.

He. He thinks for you.

Him over yonder.

He does not like his oceans red.

Nothing. Can be empty.

Perhaps a word, full of permanently stained molecules

Passed over with quivering fingers. Or just                 .  

And how about this              ?

Everything. All at once,

Filtered, contemplated,

Eliminated

The demarcation, intrusions.

Full. Of everything.

            All at once.

So              , you can’t explain.

Of daydreams and night terrors,

Cloud-shapes and closet-shadows,

You.

One cannot look at a                          and see nothing.

--  Spaces