Dominoes

Soft dominoes tumble through her mind. A black and white mosaic of how one fall precipitates an endless array of them. So terribly reactive is the mood and the desire. As they circle each other for tells and for weaknesses. Hammer the bell. Raise the microphone. It's only round one of a fight to the death.

Most people say "Have a nice life" sarcastically. But I don't. I never do.

There's sometimes this stage fright staring at the empty box. Can't keep everything. It's important to choose carefully. Not so much the words. They're transient. But what they'll mean. Not just now, but later, when it's time to clean again. Decide what to keep. What I want to keep. And what I only wish I could've.

It's not like I ever tried to be something I wasn't except for when I tried to be what they'd want. And then I'd wonder why I'd failed at being someone else. Because you can't reason with poetry. Can't tell it not to hurt when it does.

It's not as though anyone really has a nice life. Though some may be better than others.

They're all a series of dominoes. Some just get knocked down more often.