The Fear of Missing Out

Ganglia trickling up my brain stem
and back down again.
Neurons skipping synapses.
Crystals in my ear drums
out of place.

If I held my breath until my face
and every puss-filled pore
blossomed with deathly roses,
would my soul show the thorns?
Would you think I was blushing?

If the snake slithered through
the bulrush and kissed Moses
with its splintered tongue,
would I be a sparrow right now,
instead of this dirty thing?
This being
called human?

Angels and moths have wings.
Fly into me.
Let your stingers sting.
The devil carries a briefcase,
and washes his teeth with Colgate.

I don’t want to wait. I want
to vaporize and turn into cloud.
I don’t want to surrender,
but all I have in my pockets
are white flags,
night terrors,
and regret.

there’s something keeping me here.
Keeping me dirty, and human,
brushing my own teeth
and hair and staring into mirrors.
There’s something that keeps
pulling me to the surface,
sucking in the oxygen.

Something I can’t
put into words.

If I told you it was you,
would it be too much?
Would you shove me back down?


One thought on “The Fear of Missing Out

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