the weight of water in lung somehow numbs the nonchalance of ambivalence.
i'm ashamed to thrive in the in-between
but astounded to be marked as wanting red or orange, either or.
sure you got a heart, but man it doesn't mean anything to me.
i feel like i've spent a lot of time staring at myself in mirrors, trying to see what the people
who once read me like folded fortune
or pretended not to understand at all
glaze over- they've found a definition.
shake the shoulders,
"look. it's me."
staring, napping, anything but conversing with myself.
if i was willing to feel, i'd tell my perception to pull up a chair.
maybe it's time to live in the black and white that faceless friends confidently concede
i live within.
let's not hide ourselves from self-analysis
approve our desired directions.
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