I am not poignant. I am losing nuance. I beat you over the head. I am cliché. I am a
caveman. Cavewoman. A cave. I am not genteel or radical. I am pissed. I am not always specific. I am beat. I am losing steam. I leave image with image and word with word.
I take too many pictures. I am literal as fuck. I bully my way through a text. I barrel my
way through. That Neanderthal thing again. I resist understanding. I understand cuz I
resist. I’ve forgotten how to break a line. The line breaks me. I use I too much. I do get
that the I on the page is still not me. I do get that. I don’t know if you get that. I don’t
know who I am in this time. I have lost a great love. I am suffering through a terrible
leader. I don’t know where to turn or who to be. I am looking for my days to reacquire
some rhythm. I can’t be kind in the morning. I can’t be kind. I am mourning. I miss
touch. I miss conversations I had in the past. I miss the conversation I had with my past.
It is leaving me. I don’t mind erasing. I want to know who to address though.