G

The joke – public humiliation puffs up its laughter at me
Being a hoax, hoax is all it has to be – thinks its big, popping bootstraps, blowing each tiny bubble at me, a very silly bubble enlarged – public fantasy

And to say I’m mad, how is it even possible, in this collective fantasy?

I’m trying to think logically…

…the killjoy people try pour hatred from their souls into me… one thinks only of light coming in from the unseen…

Thought turns invisibly to spirit…

What of g? One thinks only of resting my head full of complaints on her compassionate shoulder, heavily, her to kiss, and see me

And give up fighting for a second, for the moment while my head lies resting in love, just to be