I don’t know what to

focus
on.

My head is a poppy
with all these seeds,
choose one,
the rest spill out.

I don’t thinking

by myself for too long.

I notice all those cars,
my hand holding the pen a bit too hard,
my unhappy thoughts yelling to be green.
There’s too much stuff.

I’m tired of choosing between

The positives
and
the negatives.

I need a “siècle de lumières” moment;
where I can beckon the alphabet together
simply with the pulse in my neck and
the crackling sound when I swallow.