my pattern’s reflections gravitate the hold in me. and apparently, i’m “easily amused.”
but aren’t we all, just adderall driven? raised on praise. but, waiting.
our pre-trophy culture. in the deepest /amidst the vultures. clocking. the speeds at which we come. untying each other’s shoe laces and watching us fall.
because the best is always. and never isn’t enough.
yet you settled. into your shifting foundations. of old homes with trite garages. and baby rooms. curtains always drawn to watch yourselves working out with the treadmills in bedrooms. the language of the lighthearted. running to lose
the weight of your truths.
i am always afraid. i always have been.
but i never ran away from it on some treadmill going nowhere.
i wear it. on my skin. with a man who doesn’t love and bites his nails thin. telling me to bridge over it. finding myself bare.
and i’m knocked into today. knowing there’s more.