Choose.
The anxiety
that comes from FOMO
is the biggest bullshit
we’ve ever allowed ourselves
to hashtag.
I obsess over the isn’t
and hold on to the can’t.
Hungry and longing,
I ignore what is.
I cheat on the present.
“What If” is my lover.
She only teases me
never providing a satisfying touch.
The idea of One
is too fucking BIG.
The idea of none
just makes me sad.
So I remain
cradled by nothing,
surrounded by thought.
We cannot escape
the suffocation
of Which.


















