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“You are not being very helpful.” 

I know. –But how to explain 

all the words I cannot pull 


from myriad thoughts? Mouthful 

of cotton against my will, yet you complain: 

You are not being very helpful. 


Decisions branch in perpetuity, my hell 

is not knowing: what will you think? Tongue mired in chains, 

mocked by the words I cannot pull. 


Start small they say. Choose: egg or waffle? 

Stay in? Go out? Booth or table? Mute. Racing heart bludgeons brain: 

I am not very helpful 


to you who weaves with ease pleasing plentiful 

sentences. Tapestries. My frayed response met with vexed sigh, anxious flames 

of failure: words I can never pull. 


Held hostage by the notion (so pitiful!) 

uselessness is worthlessness. I live in the refrain: 

You are not helpful. I drown 

in the sea of words I cannot pull. 

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