I’ve been sitting on the precipice of this

For a while

Unsure how to express my feelings

When I don’t know what I feel

You see 

I’m hysterically nonreactive 

I’m worryingly unworried 

A switch 

From nothing to everything 

Because - like Whitman -

I contain multitudes

Many great thrashing waves

Like creatures 

They slip through nets

Can’t be caught 

They drip through glass

Can’t be jarred 

You can’t consume 

The intangible

I will consume you 

And people try to have me as their cake

And eat me too

No matter how sour I become

How bitter they make me

They try to contain me 

Shape me with rusty tins

Slip their nooses of icing around my neck 

Cut the knife into my flesh 

Burning candles for everyone 

It’s fun 

Except for one 

And who cares because she’s strong 

And hyperbolically mundane 

And deafeningly monotone 

And shockingly boring 

So, she doesn’t matter 

You can’t see that my heart is an engine

That a volcano erupts through my veins 

Making my insides heave like an earthquake

On surface level, it’s undetectable  

So, serve her on the plate

- You say -

Because she doesn’t cry 

She doesn’t scream 

Come what may

She looks okay 

So, she must be okay 

Right?