I’ve never been fond of uncertainty,
Despite my dedication to
Marking up anything crystal clear,
A frightened octopus making ink clouds
To forge signatures with.
I kneel and pray,
“Who’s in charge up there,
I would like to speak to your manager,
Some days I am floating in a vacuum
Others, I’m stapled to the floor
Of a boxcar filled with things I’ve dreamt
Until they were gone.
I stand up to walk, leaving my feet behind.
When I was quiet, I could hear the future
Exiting between words in a sentence.
I still see it when it goes missing,
Whispering life into a consciousness
I thought I left choking in the corner of a room.
Revenge is not a healing language,
Regret is coagulated blood in my veins.
Love, with a existential debt to the universe
Who loved you so dearly that you were formed