Friday, February 23, 2024


What would my life be like 
without you? 
(It's actually

hard to imagine 
without being 
forced to.)

I wonder: 
are you always 
so sure of yourself? Or

is it just that, when compared 
with my thoughts, yours
know better? (At least,

so you somehow manage 
to assert 
without a word.)

And how do you 
sleep at night, o 
monkey on my back? (I mean,

aren't you afraid 
I might, some day, 
roll over?) More importantly, 

how do I sleep either 
without those
ceaseless reminders

for six or seven dark hours
who I am—why 
I matter?