a poem

Photo by Dan Gold on Unsplash

the most important question is:
do you know who I am?

you know me mindless, intoxicated,
stoned in your attic and
watching TV on your bed until
exhaustion sets in

nearly dead but wholly alive
on a throbbing dance floor at 3am,
not ready, not willing to leave

you know me

sleeping past noon whenever I can,
not being able to keep a room clean,
not being able to cook,
not being able to be anything
but myself,
you know

but you never read my face
in the mornings of winter
when tears are more legible
than the color of my eyes
or the color of my fear

you know
everyone eventually leaves me

and there are cracks
through the thick of me
like the faults of California


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