An Unnameable Feeling In Two Parts
I. Your ears, your eyes
Impact
My hands and the door knob
Still intact
No lightning
Just trying
To be or not to be
Frightening
I ask
Please don't worry
It’s writing
And nothing more
II. Mine
More more
Burned into my throat
A door
That bites back
At language
In anguish
And eons toward
tomorrow
When knobs have already
Rusted
And no one is left
To be trusted
I am or I'm not
I'm frightened
And I think that you should be too
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