what do you do when the abyss stares back? what do you do when you no longer have a joker origin story, but a joker origin trilogy? why are my feet so firmly planted on broken earth?
why was i bred during the years where the world kept inventing more ways to break your heart? what would baby blonde me in a polyester plaid jumper say if i tell her my first love and i used to fight in public online? that i’d never have met my college partner if not for an anonymous question on my blog? that i’d lived with someone who started out a stranger on the internet?
does the moon change phases in the night, sometimes? is it possible that the waxing crescent i saw when the sun first went down has swelled up before my eyes so minutely that i’ve just noticed it now? whether or not this can happen to the moon, can it happen to other things, like people you used to love?
when you take a picture of the moon on your phone, you know how you can never capture the craters or glow the way they actually look? do you know that everyone i’ve let love me has shied even further away from my camera than the moon? do you think that’s why no one has ever believed i could choose wisely, that i didn’t have anything to show for it? is it stupid to compare a lover to the moon, knowing he’ll never be as graceful, as silent, or as steady? is it worth letting anyone see my collection of pixelated photos of a shadow blurred with moonlight?
will the internet be what breaks the earth, in the end? can the internet break your heart, too?
“i have a lot of questions” is an excerpt from my upcoming full-length poetry collection, the abyss is staring back. preorder it from Querencia Press at your preferred online bookseller (mine’s Bookshop).