iSelf

i'm waking and logging off, my log is
the breathing apparatus and my pen
is a bull, ridden by a glance between
eyes of a coming winter wind behind
my ears, a barking of a dog who hates
my steps, the taste of garlic carried
on and plastered on the nostrils of friends,
a glass of water severely missed. i must
tear the tops of these folks! disgusted
they stare, i publicly self-infatuate and
create dimensions. THIS is my univ-
erse and who else's do we know besides
our own? mine...sits on the couch, waits
in a line, waits to be seated, never honks
in traffic, wakes before seven, takes
the same shower and passes the same
people every single morning; faces
rarely new, drinks coffee for fuel,
tea for throat, role model to some, de-
vil to others, stops dead in tracks when
writing, whistles The Stranger in stair-
wells and corridors and loves the re-
verb, flirts until sleep, eats until sleep,
flosses daily, internet junkie, signals
received, denies the virus, healthy weak-
days, weekends disaster, sunday the
day of god and reflection and soon
will always come the yang...