Empty Soul

a switchboard in my head
measures out who I'll be
emotions rage in cups
with pinches of spice and fire
and tablespoons of ice

when men cry
it feels like heavy weights
are falling from the eyes
the soul is a cup of water
and tears are drops that overflow
exposing the heart underneath

some moments are clear
like perfect ice on a lake
you can see everything
other moments foggy
none of the lines match
two halves do not make a whole

the switchboard master changes
as fast as light can go
one master for each moment
splintered fragments of time
like shattered ice
my frozen soul
in pieces

stabbing pains and soothing warmth
each director has a path
the destination unclear
wavering this way, tilting there
like a drunk weaving
through crowds of memories
and dreams

if only once a choice was made
a goal was written in stone
my soul would rest in the bowl
rather than freezing, shattering,
wavering, wandering,
or dying all alone