I reserve suspicion only for myself.
I hear some irrelevant thing,
then twist it inside out.
My mind gives reason no place to hide.
Caught on the most treacherous thought
I can muster, I exclude all doubt.
With a clasp-hold grip,
I ignore all logical evidence to the contrary.
Caffeine stains my lungs.
My mind morphs.
Inside voices echo as sound bites from the past.
The passage of time ticks.
Cloud’s whisper tops hurl stabbings
of angular light as they encroach the horizon.
I wait for my sins to pass.
Optimism is the ridge on my inner right cheek.
To create space, I gnaw slow,
to I know I exist outside of my mind.