Note the breadth

thud, thud, thud
the note pound my senses.
it reads, thinking felt.
the spaces between
reach towards one another
only to have their grasp
thwarted upon reflection.
pronounced initials
of first impressions,
whose brevity transfigures
misinterpretation,
decays under analysis.
living contrition assumed
when death is.

An other to another

i’ve said this before,
but i’m fine with
touching myself.
why disappoint another?
besides, i know what to expect
and this pleases me.
we know what we like,
so why expect another to know?
i’m not desperate for physical contact
because i’m well within reach.
of course, if i’m dissatisfied with
myself, then i must seek validation.
hold on a second. why find another
to feel whole when they feel what
you do not? shit, nevermind, i may
just be breathing a rhythme
hop, skipped, jumped
by a majority who disagrees.
your hands are foreign,
but i appreciate your effort.
i shouldn’t be so harsh,
because i am an other
to an other.