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GENERALLY
Things feel
about the consistency
of milky oatmeal.
With honey.
Raisins.
Nuts.
Most days,
I wake up relatively
happy. Eat breakfast.
Go to school.
Come home.
Dinner.
Homework.
Bed.
Blah, blah, blah.
But sometimes,
for no reason beyond
a loud noise or leather
cleaner smell, I am afraid.
It’s like yanking myself
from a nightmare only,
even wide awake,
I can’t unstick myself
from the fear of the dream.
I don’t want to
leave my room.
CAN’T BEAR THE THOUGHT
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Of people staring, I’m sure
