14.
one day i left my apartment,
the effort was twisted with the frustrated
tension of feeling not ready
for the world
the requisite strength i need
is enormous and unreliable,
i prepare myself like i’m running a marathon
for such mundane behaviours:
opening and closing a door,
choosing the clean clothes
among the wrinkled and stained
repeatedly forgetting appointment times
finding and losing notebooks and pens;
things I always believe i need
but rarely do
the effort i muster, i also reject in reflex
proving newton’s 3rd law
every action has an equal and opposite reaction
me, a rubber band
stretching and snapping back on itself;
until i come apart
every thought of opening
the door and leaving
is denied by a storm surge of panic
that carries imagined and unseen dangers
it should be easier
just leaving
shouldn’t it be easier?