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.