which is to say
i’m not sure poetry is enough anymore,
which is to say,
my life! is better than ever!
which is to say,
i’ve lived so long on the defensive that
i’m not sure how to deconstruct this wall,
how to chip away at twenty-some years of mortar,
and i don’t think i’m ready yet
to take a wrecking ball to the whole goddamnfucking thing—
which is to say,
look who’s back at it again! reindulging in
self-sabotage as their favorite pastime,
which is to say:
you know that feeling when you’re between asleep
and awake?
and for just a moment you’re certain you know
everything there is to know?
lately, it feels like i’ve been living
there
in that brilliant nothing
that is allthings,
which is to say that
like any person half-alive i want to make sense
of utter incomprehensibility
even if it means unraveling
myself,
fucking dying in the process,
which is to say
there’s really nothing new,
i guess. just the same ol same ol:
staring down this spiral
like i can bend it to my will,
straighten its curves into
something linear, so i can
look down the timeline of the mess i’m making,
knowing i’ll walk its path anyway.
n.l. rivera (they/he) is a queer Latino writer living in New Jersey. Their work has appeared or is forthcoming in Bullshit Lit, Spare Parts Literary, Whale Road Review, The B’K, and elsewhere. One of these days he’ll develop a strong sense of identity, but in the meantime, they plan to keep writing poetry. Online, he lurks on Twitter @nl_riversss and Instagram @n.l.riversss.