Other Poems by:

Mathias Nelson

This Social Disorder

It keeps me from going into you
but don't fret.
Don't fret.
I'll come in you with words
instead.  breaks where I want
and metaphors when they come
to me.
Look at the sky.
Who is to determine the clouds?
They come when they are forced
but me, and you, we
go by what we want.
What do you want?
Me...to come in
you?  Well
here it is.
Now we're both satisfied
I hope.  Shit
it can't stop now.
I tell you I've been going to the river
lately, trying to make it
so instead of human faces
I see the running water
running
running
run to this poem.
It is what I have to 
give
and that's all
really.  Just these words
and this
disorder.

Copyright 2009, Mathias Nelson, All Rights Reserved
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