wasting words

As it becomes clearer to me what I want,
I see it for others is unclear.
As I attribute meaning to the life i've let swallow me,
it possesses me that most people don't pay attention.

Really, though,

truth is relative, it is unique to each moment.
Anything in opposition to the sliver of present--
that splits through the dark like hallway light through
the slight agape of a bedroom door--
is not true. is contrived. breeds deceit.

These words aren't important.