11.5.22

MAYBE I am specifically not specially unequipped for a certain kind of telling. Stepping into time I lose my hold on its fabric. Maybe we are pulling on its seams. Seems strange. Yesterday in a conversation a man tells me that after speaking to me his brain feels like spaghetti. You must not use your brain very much then I am tempted to say in self defense or maybe just because I want to. 

Linger on this for just a moment and forget about beauty. Consider that I am small and insignificant. At least the starlings have each other for company. From a distance they look like crows. In the face of desire I tell myself always that I am not enough. I'm crush the cup in my hands. Desire coming apart in styrofoam. Hold on I want to say. I'm not ready to get on the train just yet. Hold on. All these temporary things and people spilling out from me as I reach in my bag, fumbling, forgetting what I was looking for. Sustain. Sustinence. I am so hungry but for what I'm not sure.