I woke up with my world in my hands
my world in numbers (worth), old hands (family), shared trauma (all of the above)
I wish I could feel like a kid again, spine bent and mind in tact
Clocks ticked and there was no meaning in relationships
I’m not old, I know
But I’m more of what I know, or less of whatever before, I don’t know
But I know: I’m perpetually alone, out-of-zone, proud and somewhat undone
I’m five years to 21 and I love my mom.
I’m body, all broken and sunken in. I’m unaware of mostly nothing at all
Pretentious and stuck up. Beautiful and ****** up.
Everything and all of it or none of the above.
I’m undecided, but that’s not a check in the box
I’m sad and I’m exhausted but you can’t major in that, can you?
I’m too tired to talk to you but I know that’s not an excuse.
So maybe I’m 21. Maybe I hate my mom. Maybe I’m not alone.
Maybe I live in a condo on the West Side and maybe I’ve checked into one.
Maybe just maybe I don’t need to know anything about me at all
Maybe I’m a question mark.
Or maybe I’ve missed it.
****.