In which new followers learn I’m gay

I woke to thoughts of family
pinching pain points
into early-rising facial expression

while the last dream I had
crumbled under the bed.

So thankful for phones
and Twitter: look, there’s a teaser
for the first A Star Wars Story         posted pictures
of planets         Metaverse musings
about mixed realities         writers writing
and wrapping up week one of thirty days
of the annual NaPoWriMo. I soon regretted
distraction;

amusing ourselves to death
takes the form of birds waiting on razor
junkyard fences. Tweet, tweet. I turned

my phone
off. Didn’t wanna
exercise but got up         dressed up         donned headphones
and to “Pick Up the Phone (Francis Prove Remix)”
I danced then raised my calves         pushed up         sat
up         squatted         burpee’d to “I’m Not Madonna” before
circle jogging to my “Gotta Move” playlist.

I wrote this
poem.

I was hungry, hadn’t stocked, hadn’t shopped
in days. Hell
is hungry at the grocery store
placing cheese hotdogs         baked cheddar crackers         Little
Debbie Nutty Bars         mixed nuts         microwave
popcorn and other pop process boxes into my cart
next to save-me bananas         strawberries         avocados         potatoes
that go with bags of salad rotting
and bags of green beans freezing

back home in my refrigerator.
I watched TV. Overate. YouTube. I watched my watching
streaming video and worried
about who reads me. When I was rewriting
I saw the form doubt takes:
a white screen covered in slack words
trying too hard to matter,
too hard to escape,
too hard to find in routine
the best way to tell you:

Feel free to unfollow me.

#NaPoWriMo 2016 Day 7