untitled. (27 January 2014)



Why not me?

Then again,

Why should I?

Am I capable of being a voice?

Am I capable of being radical?

Thoughts surface in my conscious mind

from depths I can not fathom.

Who is this me, 

that comes to mind?

Whose ideas, whose thoughts

are these that make themselves apparent?

Why not write them down?

Why not speak of them?

Thoughts are fickle things.

They come,

They go.

A chance for remembrance comes, 

only by record.

Why would I,

Why do I,

not record?

What am I so afraid of?