I’m always trying to turn my fear
into a fire I can’t extinguish.
Right now I’m trying to turn my fear
over not connecting with you, reader,
into a kind of flexibility
or acceptable wavering of that experience,
though I suppose
there is no real way to know for sure
I’ve gotten through to you
since I can’t make you feel
or think anything.
But who am I kidding? I can’t get real
Even now, I’m trying to convince myself
there is a way to prove to you,
prove to myself, once and for all,
that I am here, now, totally feel-able,
whatever that means.
I know that as long as I try to come
through this page I know I can’t pass through,
I’ll never get there.
And though I could change how I think
about what it means to be there,
I wouldn’t stay tricked for long.
I’d get bored with my own shenanigans,
and want to spread
wildfire into the next, driest thing,
infernal as water.