GETTING ON MY OWN DAMN NERVES

Girl.

Did you always chew like that? 

Mouth open,

Speckles, crumbs, and

whole pieces of things

leaving a half moon of dribbles on the counter.

Before the world was muted

I didn’t hear it.

Now, day and night,

Such.

Loud.

Breathing.

The panicked gasps

of a large fish on land.

Everywhere:

Books, chargers, ghost stains of coffee,

fugitive clothes.  

Cabinets half open, possessed.

After:

I’ll burn everything

stretchy pants, 90’s tee-shirts, and

whatever this is.

Seems I’m isolating with my inner

13 year old boy.

It’s the best I can do.

While dreaming

of out. Of life.

Of glorious after.

15 May 2020

*For the whole collection, please get over to 100 words of solitude. It’s a singular testament to our survival of things big, horrific, mundane and amazing.