13-100

oh good lawd could i ever be brave for that?
walk up to the front desk
make a solemn request
could i face these, countenance their minds?

why in all this paranoia sit i still
symptoms self-diagnostic
most likely hypochondriac
fantasized of phlegm, my eyes weakening

can i see these fine prints that blur
into and out of focus
torn magnifying glass
i struggle to see -- infestations

my hands started running -- they did not move
my hands could take me places
they were rooted in the concrete
so my arms extended wide -- no man worships trees

what is this, the watching and the doing
i grow like bonsai
dwarved by controlling men
and women -- dear mom -- anonymity

hatred gathers about my feet,
nourishing the mushrooms of decay
till i have clearer sense of mind
that my divesting heart won't find