Grid

I am running out of stories
Gazing into the distance
And feeling an emptiness
That is alive
But I cannot grasp it
The moment I name it
It dissolves
These words are hollow
There may be glitter
And that’s all
I can’t talk to you
Even if words leave my mouth
I don’t know what I’m saying
No understanding
We may sit together
But language separates our worlds
We can’t meet there
Even if we use the same words
What do they even mean
When we just sit here
And the noise of a passing train
is cutting the grid