I am

I am layers of humiliation
waiting for wind and water,
in their persistent struggle,
to etch away layer by layer

at my eroding edifice of pride.

I am crossed wires
miscommunicating within myself.
Conversations had and not had,
both real inside my head.
Inside where there is no trust.

I am dust and air brought to life.
Created from nothing but hope.
Hope of rising to greatness,
which we seem to never achieve
before returning again to dust.

I am a morbidly aware man.
Aware of what I lack to be,
what these pieces of life mean,
of the joy and truth brought by the pain
of my ill-fated attempts at love.