I feel so scared of the tracks, yet I'm magnetized. without thought I would throw myself to them. I'm pulled, and so I lean a little harder against this wall and hope the force will be strong enough.
I'm not scared of my mind. but I'm uncomfortable. there's a guest in my house and they've made the kitchen a mess. they sit in the living room. they sit at the table. they sit outside my door. so I hide in bed and I feel sick like I did then. I need to get out.
there's chocolate on the subway floor, the melancholy comes as it pleases. is there something wrong with me? a common question of late.
but I still want to hug the strangers on the subway. I want to touch the arms of people as I slip by them. I feel so big in my love but so small in my sadness, hoping the world will come around me like a blanket. and I imagine it this way—myself and my tears on the floor, and the people close, the man standing to my left becoming that blanket—that biggness of love kneeling down.
