I can feel the hollowness. I can feel the emptiness.

I can feel the vast hole. There is a gap in my chest

the size of the Grand Canyon, the Windy City,

as lonely as however many single room

occupancies there are in Manhattan.

 

I am your narrator because I am your emptiness,

I am your fear, I am your 4 am panic.

 

I am the sudden, unexplained arrhythmia

as you slip a stich in the knitting needles of your heart

and the whole pattern of your existence falls apart,

your fabric loses shape and you become something

you no longer intend and don’t recognize.

 

Now stop breathing

and see what happens next.