Thursday, March 17, 2016

I DARE YOU

Every single morning, you
wake up—screaming 
to notice

so many 
of the same 
things—from the vastness 

of clean 
sky, to the
crowded 

mantelpiece 
that needs 
dusting—inevitable 

things, resolute 
and reassuring, all those
colored 

pictures of 
the way 
things once were, have 

been, ought
or need
to be—that

most days, the absolute 
hardest and most 
unimaginable thing you 

could do 
would be to 

shut your eyes
and make-
believe—that you actually 

don't see. 
That you're 
not being 

constant-
ly reassured by the 
light. That,

instead of knowing 
inside-

out, every
scene that you're in—

that for one god-
blessed 
second, your 

whole world
is both—

dramatically 
empty,
and heroically

full
of things—you 
don't understand.