Maybe I’m more like the residue left                                                           behind by bleach or the wet trails of hair sticking to your                                           skin when all you want is to be clean. Maybe like                      that queer feeling of something inside of you that is not                                        welcome like the constant u n d o i n g of yourself by yourself. The sick                 thwarting of your too big beating heart and unsteady fingers        in         your         throat. Or maybe I’m like- I like sunshine better than your self           diagnosis of twisted denial- and you can’t stand it so you make sure everyone                       has realized that you know just what you are talking about. Right? Isn’t that- it’s right,

isn’t it?