back

# reality


irritation swelling in my chest,

in my fingers --


out of focus, my mind --

gummed up machinery, clicking wetly --


a nauseating resistance

where none should be.


---


reality itches.


---


when i was a kid,

sitting in a field,


i'd pluck the grass,

one stem at a time.


the nerves of the wild spinach

stretched like rubber bands


and snapped.