Luke Warm

My throat aches from silently screaming.
I can’t find a tear.
I know somewhere they’re streaming.
I keep throwing rocks, but the water won’t ripple.
Which way is up?
How can I know, if gravity’s fickle?
I recognize brilliance
But never create it.
Something has happened and now I’m sedated,
Like I’m drowning in water that’s only luke warm.
I don’t know my skin 
From the sea,
Or calm 
From the storm.
I’m lost in the grey. 
I long for definition.
I’m an artist who envies the mathematician.


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