Scrawled

and when I say

all these poems are
one stream of thought poem
and that that one poem is my earthly
existence boiled down to
meaningless words that
I haven't found the
combination/order for yet,
like my puzzle is missing
so many necessary pieces
and the edges aren't even
straight,

I am lying through my fingers
touched by my pen
on note books and computer
screens,

If I am to be believed,
you've fallen for this farce

and I keep writing and typing away

seeking my un-truth