some days
i can stop time.
stare at a spiderweb in the corner of my room
for hours.
write a whole novel in my head
about the dust on its threads.

and some days —
it’s 17:17.
headache.
nausea.
dizzy spells.

critical low blood sugar.
body tremors low.
lips-gone-violet low.
fantastically, absurdly low.

once again,
my body asked
nicely,
then screamed:
FEED ME
(no tweets — just pure biology.)

i try to be present.
god, i do.

but presence, it turns out, requires
a little boredom in the cortex —
some open space
between the thoughts.

and lately —
this week.
last week.
the whole new job, new chapter, new me production —
so much motion,
but i am, inconveniently, made of matter.

and matter,
when ignored,
gets loud and dramatic.
gets very popular.
suddenly, everything is about her.

like a body
crashing into its limits
with every hazard light blinking —
just to be heard.

(sometimes also referred to as: a medical emergency.)