yesterday i was alone and walking down some tunnel
that was the opposite of crowded and yet i felt as if i took up the whole space and more
and my words ran long lines, longer than my normal short thoughts
breaking up in weird places
and then for the first time in a long time my mind spoke with my body instead of my soul
and my voice was coming back at me from the concrete walls
and i realized
i was talking to myself and i was answering myself and even as the conversation continued
i thought, all these times i’ve called myself crazy and now i’m proving my theories right
but there’s nobody here to bear witness to the fact
that i am arguing the existence of my own sanity
and i fell silent only when i encountered another human being and suddenly
i felt ashamed, even though the words i had been saying
were nothing short of some sort of honest truth, and actually
i kind of liked being crazy and i vowed that the next time i find myself
really, truly alone
i’m gonna check in on how i’m feeling
because my voice seems to know me better than i know myself
and i’d like to know myself