No will set you free

No.

I am trying to avoid aching because of a moment’s pleasure.

 

You do not have my attention.

 

I googled the definition of ‘enraptured’ feeling the word fall out of my mouth at a customer.

 

It is precisely how I do not feel.

 

I fucked the left side of my lower thoracic and upper lumber,

cracking my back last night.

 

I began cracking joints around age eleven.

I was staying with friends, my parents on tour, I went to a day of eighth grade with my mom’s friend’s daughter. I do not recall why I had the day off from school.

 

We rolled our heads and wrists in circles: drama class.

 

The audible crunching yearned for a more substantial release.

I awoke to my smaller bones.

 

In the night I was completely sober, I finished the last page in the Octavia Butler novel,
I drank the last sip of rooibus.

 

You might read me as an expert and it is true,

a bedtime ritual has never been more fine-tuned and yet.

 

Twisting to the left I thought for sure

I would ripple like a deck in a seasoned dealer’s hands,

but it was to the right that I shifted back into place.

 

I woke up aching because of that pleasure.

 

Infuriating and familiar inflamed vertebral tissue

adjacent to your pictures, your ever present community.

 

All day I am awake to my petty bones, asking

a higher conscience to shake them loose.