Notes on Authenticity
Feeling of the feeling underneath the feeling,
Beneath the finely-woven, pink-thread sweater with sparkly plastic
buttons chosen after hours of barefoot pacing before my closet door;
smiles forced and phrases overheard from parents copied and
automatically used, the mechanics of habit and the deep
desire to Break Free. Living inside created worlds and
only wanting to escape into a hot shower, fog, citrus-smelling,
steaming the glass pane and relieving congestion. Carefully constructed
nails painted red or grey, according to the mood, and still –
there’s a glass wall separating me from you.
Maybe it’s not about being authentic;
Maybe it’s about removing the need
To be. To bury, split, water, to nourish this intrepid seed.