The Saddest Word I Know

The Saddest Word I Know

Is hollow

For I’d rather be filled with 1,000 wasps

Or perhaps trapped in my own tailored punishment prescribed by Dante himself

Recognized by me because I am someone with a body to tailor punishment to

Someone with a mind to torment and a heart to break

Than nobody at all

When I graduated my teacher assigned me a word with speed, derived from lyric

And she called me an active participant in my own life

And I never felt a more beautiful assignment, a compliment with more weight

Than that of a comment with density and interpretation

Because I’d rather be non-stop

I’d rather take a turn too fast and hit the wall

Than to stall

I’d rather be my biggest fan and my worst critic

Than to have nobody read my name and to have life, or death, assign it nothingness

In silence tell me that my servitude was worthless

 

And I’d rather be filled with 1,000 butterflies

And feel my illness at its peak, and to turn in my sheets and watch the clock climb with struggling old limbs

Than to never feel worry with its partner excitement

To never hear them argue with each other before a speech

To never hear them make up and take a vacation and hire a babysitter named peace of mind

 

And I’d rather love at 1,000 times the normal amount to love someone

And accept 1,000 times more risk

Or love even 1,000 people and open myself to loss

Than to live this life without connection

Than to feel emptiness not only in my ribcage

But to have bones like a bird

And fly above the connection darting like movie magic on the level where people walk and exchange smiles or even peripheral awareness of each other

I love these heavy bones and this loaded transcript I carry in my synapses

The saddest word I know is hollow, and the implications that follow

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