You

I wonder how long it would take for the sky to swallow me whole.  A ride among these clouds seem as though it would last forever.  Just me and the blue above my head.  It's better than the one below, asking me to drown in emotions without a name.  Perhaps if I swim.  Perhaps if I tread these tears, they will lead me to you.  They call it obsession, complete focus on a single entity that if I not be careful could simply become nothing more than smoke before my eyes.  They forget that it is you who have kept me here, you who have kept me breathing. 

Salted Alphabet

All this time and I still ask myself just how long it'll be before I am heard.  How long must my phrases be before someone takes note of the fact that they are drowning in tears?  Am I to create an ocean of my sad tales before my worth, my pleas, my story be told?  What a sadness it is to realize that there are never enough intellects to take the breath to read.  When words are all a person understands, it is a hope, a prayer that their voices be heard.  But what of it when not a soul has picked up and dusted off a book?  What becomes of those simply begging to be heard? What becomes of the ghost that glides inside, so silent one almost wonder if any trace of humanity remains?  How many words must be written before another can hear my screams?