The Fragment that Wants it All
I see it in every word.
You bleed a hollow buzzing,
hoping it will reach its audience.
You deny its pain.
But I believe you.
And yet, between every syllable,
you pause,
grasping for breath.

The Fragment that Keeps Track of Time
“What does it mean?” you ask.
“The passage of time? How does it feel?”
I nod off,
knowing too well what not to say.

The Fragment that Sees the Light 
You point to it,
smiling. 
I follow the curve of your hand,
but something else vies for my attention.
You lost me.
Maybe next time.

The Fragment that Feels Cold
I can’t touch it, 
trust me on this one. 
It’s beautiful.
Innocent.
Gentle.
My hands are too cold.

The Fragment that Doesn’t Move 
We walk the same path,
you feel the ground,
you see the footsteps that led us here,
your eyes are open,
you picture the end.
I don’t.

The Fragment that Doesn’t Understand 
Looking for a dimension,
Is there any?
Are you contradicting yourself,
Or does it only sound like that to me?
Which dimension are you speaking from?
Will I ever see it?

The Fragment That Others Keep
The words I speak don’t belong to me.
Once I give them to you, they’re yours—
to twist
to remember
to forget.

The Fragment that Doesn’t Care
Which hand am I holding the candy in?
Take a guess. 
But before you do,
I’ll tell you.