I apologize in my mind,
endless intentional scenes,
then slip into fantasies of you
rubbing the base of my skull on a table.

Exhausted by my hundredth variety
of attempts that will never fix
my anxiety, I shake myself to sleep—

teeth chattering, eye twitching,
just dreaming of waking up in the life

where you would apologize to me.

(first feat. in Pickle Press Poetry)