Motivation.

Alex: Give me a hug. And tell me something inspirational.

Natasha: I believe in you. You can do this. Don't poop your pants.

If it disturbs you, it's art.

I had an idea for a performance art piece:

Just me. Staring lifeless into a camera. Chewing gum.

For three years.

What would be your performance art piece?

I was awake in the loneliest place.

I saw you look back. Move forward. Look back. Move forward.
Lather. Rinse. Repeat.
And if all was anything, it be the two motion cinema that loops my mind.
In black and white, like many classics.
In shock and sadness, like many tragedies.
There you were. In between.
All but missing a red dress, a cigarette, and a movie screen.
Expired light. Eight minutes ago.
She shimmers down in waves to remind me so.
And my chest began to heave and pull.
So my cage could not keep in tune.
I tug at the madness. The motionless mistress.
And she says to me, "Before you know it."
As abrupt as departures go, I would say that I agree with her.

It comes back to me as recollections
of battering light from the rearview mirror.
They travel in something that reminds
me of the way you write when you agree.
They told me I could describe it best with untouching rhetoric,
but my doubt measures something like my breath.
I thought of this until I heard them call my name.
When I have mistaken it for something great, they were
only shouting numbers at the glowing screen.
I stood there, blind.
Untouched,
and unmistaken for something lesser in light.

sometimes i forget to breathe.
but we can't aspire to respire anymore.
when desperation took a seat next to me
she found cracks in my wall.

everything so vulnerable.
now debris.
we're a reflection of weakness.
they are our weakness.
so feeble my body at a hint of their glance.

she showed me something.
a box.
and in it were immortalized moments
featuring a stranger in her mirror.
she said she was once like me.
before desperation took a seat next to her.