i wanted, wanted so much, so hard, to be so good. but there was no place left for me to sit or to even stand. the writers and the poets and the singers have got all my words and even my silence with them- but better, always better of course- and i bruise my mouth and cut my tongue against the letters of the alphabet and each and every sound that rises and falls with the spinning of this world and i get nowhere. a loaded bag of cliches and used and reused ideas and no place left to go. all taken, taken, pending... oh sorry, taken as well. i want to say- but it has been said before. but it can be said again. is there a point? why not. okay. yes. let me try again. i. i, don't remember anymore. i. aye. eye. lie. sigh. bye. die. no place to go, no skin to slip into, no face to look into, no memory left to hold on to. i want to scream my name but already the sound sounds foreign in my head. i want to scream my name to remember who i am but can't because i never knew who i was in the first place. i. i wait. no echo. i am my own echo. i! i! i! each time a different tone, a different emotion. start. stop. calculations and miscalculations. start. don't stop. run, baby, run and catch the very foot of the sun as he flaps his wings and pull him down and kiss him and hold on tight until he takes you to the place you've always belonged in- another world, another language, another you, another i.