Spirit You choke me up when I come close to saying what I want to say. What do you want from me? Is it recognition? I know you’re there, And I’ve known ever since I learned what language was. Is it obedience? Whatever I’ve managed to say I said for you, and you’re the only one I’ve written my poems to. To be remembered? I can’t forget you Any more than I can forget death, my mother, or the sea, And I’ve done more for you than you can know. So why can’t I ever satisfy you? Even now you want these lines Bigger than the world and twice as wide. I’m writing this on a bathroom floor at midnight, hungry, half-asleep, and a little sick of you. You drama queen. You’re the pickiest of eaters Pretending to choke on everything that’s not your favorite. In fact, you’re prideful, impatient, greedy, and inconsiderate. How would you like to be down here scraping your knees on someone’s shit? Of course, you don’t care about the details. You just want my attention. But I could always be silent.