1. You are:
a) a bolt of electricity running through my veins. I fought to control you but you have filled my cells and burned all the water out of me. As I dry at your contacts they have screamed that I should let go, but my fingers refuse to pry themselves away.
b) a gasp interwoven with the politics of breathing. Inhaled, you are both fleeting and permanent.
c) the point between decision and action.
d) breaking. Inside yourself you have painted the walls with a toothbrush and fluffed your soul to create the illusion of order. You have failed. You know you have failed and you know anyone you let in will know you have failed. So you lock the door and shout to passersby from your frontyard.
e) all of the above.
2. I am:
a) shattered in your presence. Shards of myself have cut your palms revealing the psalms that were hidden between your lifeline and the nook under your thumb.
b) but a silent man disguised in a noisy body.
c) writing poetry
d) failing to write poetry for my entire imagination is captured by the idea of you, but even that is fleeting. It fills fractures in the most delicate of ways – a presence that is only really felt by its absence.
e) all of the above