For myself - With love and squalor

There are no silent brooks
but some trees fall unnoticed

some rocks go unturned
And the heart and mouth
do not always connect

Like cupping two palms
to draw water for drink
The heart has so much to say
it runs over the edges
So when raising it up
to quench the thirst
The mouth sadly finds
most of the substance had slipped through the cracks

So little makes it through the lips
that only a stunted version
of what was meant to be said
is ever really verbalized

So with a dehydrated mouth
and a heart about to burst
I slosh about
hoping to strike the rock
and have water spring forth
Or waiting for an angel
with a divining rod

There's an ocean of life under this course surface
and I've yet for another one to want it

And my vision is illegible and my concentration fades
two and three times for a sentence
and one or less times is my s-e-n-t-e-n-c-e