i am beyond words and ink-stained hands because i've always thought language to be a

limitation

to thought

i am stacks of composition notebooks filled with lowercase i's because who are we to think of ourselves as larger

when we're only louder than the rest

i am the sand beneath your feet because i've always had a fascination with the ocean for its seeming infinity,

eagerly drinking salt water yet never quenched of the thirst for wholeness

i am the one who tries to marry reason and feeling

when we all know feeling left reason at the altar long ago, abandoned and waiting perpetually for something time would surely return

surely

i am the one who wonders why we praise the bird yet kill the fly

when the latter bears  the name of the life we envy

and lives only a few days, so one day for it is richer still than our decade

i am the one with a body only to exist as an extension of my mind

wondering if my soul is already inside me

or if it exists in infinity with all the rest

i am the one

you can call by no other name

because feeling abandoned reason

to have an affair with me