Germs, they are everywhere.
In the air, and in your hair...

I've run out of words.
Not true...

Listen to the thump-thump rhythm,
of your sneakers on the pavement...

He's thin, but not terribly so.
His elbows form sharp angles...

It's three AM.
He's awake, sitting up in bed...

It's dark out and my alarm clock is beeping.
I scramble to the foot of my bed to silence it...

Who was there, and why is it okay?
But not for me...

This isn't about
Am I Capable...

This is me,
with my love and fear of the quiet...

A string of words?
Yes, and what I see...

Wade through the
shallows of my head...

A lifetime of brevity-
the flicker before...