Frustration Speakers

The frustration can be heard through the speaker
and I know you wanted me to give you an answer,
but I talk about saffron eyes and keyboard ears.
I don’t have the language to tell you
that I just don’t care to talk about us anymore.
We are traffic jam commute and my emotions
stall out at the first intersection.
So I talk about features of strangers on the street,
or the sound my keyboard makes when I type you name.
It clicks over and over again until I fall into a crowd
of scrambled limbs and disconnection.
I want to disconnect most days
into fields of sunflowers and roll in saffron
petals until I dye my skin yellow.
I want to change, and I don’t know how to say
I want to disappear into my jammed emotions
until the traffic of confusion dissipates.
We care about our outlines, and I keep filling mine end.
Your feet know how wash me away
over and over again, until our calls intersect
and my tongue can only stumble over your frustration.

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