Words

These are not my words
not my phrases
foreigners crowding
blindly pressing through this dark tunnel

Urgent.

Time-released from the throes of routine and duty
not genuine spontaneity

carefully chosen

curated

caught up

mired, enmeshed
tangled in the barbed wire of politesse
and proper placement

not fresh leaves fluttering

ashes, smoldering, cooled and burning

etched on a page

forever
and meaningless.