Dear Destructive,
You are a concrete winged gnat, flying into my deficiencies at 3000miles per second.
I build Styrofoam protection, sheltering me from nothing, not awkwardness, or pizza, or myself.
I bend back the stems of people I’ve talked to and examine the undersides of our conversations in a vacuum. I stick myself to parts of people’s feet, sure that my ungainly steps are all they will remember.
You make me into a sea-bottom trawler, wringing in my failures. I am fetid brown, diseased yellow and insignificant.
I am all these things; and less.
When I reach the stars, you make them into slippers and I hate you.
I hate you!.
and I cannot let you become me.
YOU CANNOT BECOME ME!
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