What's the point? Love, merciless, sometimes breaking, sometimes bind-
ing together blind-
ness or nesting itself inside my insecurities--or better yet, can you help me think?
I need words big enough so nobody can actually understand how I feel about anything because life is
inherently
boring. Don't think
that this is going to work out, and I am thinking about being bent over
a balcony
23 stories above with someone I don't know
but maybe we will get married instead of all the other plans I've made. My concern
feels light.
What's happening now?
There's no light here anymore. Nothing anymore, there is is more
than the light just traveling out of me, more than ever
mercilessly I am cutting
you off. I am not explaining myself.
Time's up. Timing was a word
explaining nothing instead of all the words
I should have given you. We only had
a balcony. And hours.
