share with me your thoughts. tell me. do you think i'm too serious? yes. i am. i already know this. but saying it is owning it: i am too serious.
i hear my voice inside my head. i speak the words out loud: i am too serious.
my inner child bristles: i am too serious?
i say the words. i own the words: i am too serious.
i am not words.
i am not narrative. i am not story.
i am not a hesitant reenactment of faulty memories.
i am not a unidimensional state.
i am playful. i am child. i am infant.
this, too, i own.
*
this truth brings tears.
won't you extend me a tissue? a hand? a shoulder?
won't you measure my need on a scale? won't you sum it up into a simple number? won't you qualify it? quantify it? multiple choice? yes or no? true or false? likert scale? won't you break it down so you can see all the parts?
won't you penetrate its deepest spirit?
this tunnel.
this passage.
this corridor.
is endless.
but.
i have.
a mallet
for every curve of concrete.
a key
for every door.
