Feeling Stabby.

I can
not
believe
that
I
am
pondering
some
kind of
fool-hardy
re-connection
to

to

to

what...

exactly?


To...

[long silences]
[absent commitment]
[incredulous semantics]
[anti-labeling]

you

I can't.  I already feel this

ooze

That wells up inside me and struggles at my eyes like tear gas to force the tears out

What the actual fuck am I even doing?

When I stare at myself in the mirror and despise my ability to empathize -

What does that make me?

Is it something I want to be?

Is it even me?

Or is it just a last stubborn part of you:

Little piece of glass in my eye.

Riveting
Tinkling

Sharp.