Fuzzy nothing mind
middle of the night, I had a dismal pinhole vision Of nothing, being nothing, meaning nothing Stretched over my brain like a taut tarp a velvety white noise filled my ears like cotton balls
I want you to hold my hand and Steer my grip Toward something That might give me substance Oh, if only the road map to purpose Was in my glovebox
To be put in a box is to be given a home If you must confine me to make me known, I say yes Every stranger I meet is less foreign than me I’m asking you to tell me who I am so I can be it