I am frightening, with cavities bared, and I can barely catch my breath: tripping over words is an exhausting endeavor, and I endeavor to change. "What's on your mind?" It asks me, all platonic and frustrated, and I prepare by sharpening my mind on the latest grievance.
I delete every word.
I chart-out my successes and failures, each a destination on a map. In Wyoming I left someone stranded; in Vermont, the black and white of my dreams assaulted me; in Kentucky, I found my phone, my armor. With my thoughts ablaze, I can finally address all of the reasons why I let you down. Through the stories I tell, I am as young and old as the stars.