spit tastes like words that don't make sense

we come here for answers,
i look for crooning truths between a voice scratched and gaptoothed
standing on tiptoe, in anticipation
sing something i know, god
i still believe in reincarnation and that
i'm going to be a let down that never
owns a greenhouse or puts out a chapbook.
I'm in existential crisis completion
stage
right? probably going insane.

words are cheap, but they are all i can afford
wrote a song on the piano
that might never be heard.
its typical, its spot on.

its almost like i don't let anyone believe in me
and that i am wayyyy too honest for a public forum.