somedays it feels like all I am
is a
heaping pile
of cognitive dissonance

somedays, all I am
is a
heaping pile 
of cognitive dissonance

does it matter if I turn left or right
if I
can't tell
the difference between them?

does it matter if I reach wrong or right
if there's
really no
difference between them?

somedays the dissonance begins to buzz
and I twitch,
my hand
my eye

I shake with the grinding of
transform faults in my mind.
I tremble in the places where my worlds
          slide past each other

I fall apart in the places where my worlds
          collide

and the dissonance never ends
it just shifts as my thoughts
          slip
          between    you
                                and me

          between    the
                                words cascading
                                              from my throat
         beneath
         the tremors of a
               mind undone
                                                the undulations of a
                                                          heart unfurling
   the earth-wrenching
           mountain-cracking
           dirt-torn sound that
           that escaped my lips
           when you removed
                                       yours

and I keep forgetting, always forgetting
that the
dissonance isn't in the
crashing of your absence against my presence

no, the
dissonance is in the
knowledge, the knowledge that I am present

the dissonance is the knowledge that
          I am.