too not enough

i’m pulled in too many directions

i’m torn in too many ways

i drink too much in the nights

i sleep away too  many days

too many thoughts in my head to think straight

too many windows in the buildings to even begin to paint

too much movement and too many colours in all

the fluttering shadows of the trees on the white walls

too many shifts in the light in the hallowed halls

too many people saying too many things

much too loud until my ears ring

too many doubts

too many debts

too many deaths

too many marriages

too many loves

too many heartbreaks

too many negotiations

too many aches

too many contradictions

too many voices too many doctrines

too many opinions too many arguments

too many hints

too many …

and not enough of me

but that’s vanity

not enough sanity

but who wants that anyway?

too much anger

not enough sorrow

too much pain

not enough love

too much heartache

and yet not enough to write with