distilled. (a poem)

distilled.faces flashed by.warp speedslowed byyour eyes, my eyes.I caught thema butterflywings flutteringsoftly against my hand.Wide openyou gulpeda world full ofbrackish waterThrough the opened lidseverything floodedan ocean in yourone entire drop of self.But you laughed.because beauty ofasymmetryis this...that by swallowingthe oceanyou can losethe dropand all youever wantedwas to bea very lost drop.distilled.

my hands are small

It's not metaphorical. It's true. I have tiny hands. Size 4.5 ring finger. And they can't dot things neatly, like that title up there that sits, balancing, without a period to stave off the anxiety of no ending. My hands can't stop uncertainty. "My world keeps spinning around." like the lyrics of this song that …