i have spent boundless days, and countless nights; 

madness stripping months, stuck singing, mouthless.

grabbing at anciently deceased stars,

manhandling, strapping name tags on them.

building my body out of worn down objects.

shoving ocean into shoeboxes.

polishing dusted gravel, flawless.

i am me!




entropy buzzing in stained-glass fingertips!

yes! every boot, glass slipper- every shoe fits!

boundless! entropic! oh my goodness! 

oh, if only 16-year-old me could see this! 

bask in sunlit candles to bare witness!

unzipping old to step into new skins! 

the pursuit to constantly reconceptualize the self–

my self–

as if she lies dormant, static,

to be built once and once more, 

to paint waves in an instant before they crash onshore,

to tie tethers onto trees to hold still in a storm–

futile! useless! good for nothing! fruitless! 

i am me! 




i am a thousand times destroyed, faded, 

decimated in corners of minds, outdated.

hundreds of me born, in passing minds and faces,

in coy eye-contact or hands, shaken.

i am the woman of dreams and girl of nightmares.

blearily barefoot, raven black bunches of hair

wet kiss on deserted dance floor,

try-hard, do-nothing, refrigerator award,

selfish, aloof, too-busy to care,

too small, too big, too much body to bare.

too loud, too quiet, too much space, too much air

shallow, optimistic, thinks life is fair! 

i am multitudinous, fumbling, deliciously flawed.

and the exhibitionist wonderings of self will drag on.

i’m sorry to those i have hurt in my wake.

to those i have not called today.

to whom i promised i would stay.

to those from whom i ran away.

i make excuses and chalk it up to youth.

to be honest, it’s me i will always choose.

i choose tired tabletop dancer, twenty feet tall

a formerly fatalist, forgetful, know-it-all.

i choose suburban shadow, silent and small,

off on secret weekends within wilting white walls.

i choose try again and again until something lands.

i choose everything and nothing, wherever i stand.

i am me.


i am me.

patiently. quietly. lovingly.

i am me.


please be flexible with yourself. you are never finished.



4 replies on “the inconclusion

  1. I very recently found your site, and I love it so much. Whether it be on here, or in leather-bound notebooks, I hope you never stop writing.

    Liked by 1 person

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