Poem #2

Find a bubble that fits
one that allows the cough and splutter
but removes the fear of drowning
or any consolation

I woke up this morning and fiction was in its infancy
I picked the spring blossom without hesitation
before falling on a crowded street

Dying many times
Every time it becomes less real
I fear one day it will become parenthesis
But what does parenthesis fear? The reader?
Certainly not you

it is easier than you think
It is easier than I
Fuck me

Lose your meaning and erase its history
Now lighter, you may soar
for a while
then remember
Tie yourself to your troubles forever