I become static

I know you and your list of responses. I will tell you I’m not well, and you will tell me to pray. You will say everything is taken care of. I’m trying to tell you I swallow that pill every night. I’m trying to tell you, I have been.

You’ve misunderstood. You keep saying be cautious, the world will get inside of you. Never let it in. Never ever open the door.

I’m trying to tell you the opposite. The world has always been. It’s seeping from my pores. They are watching, all the angels, one-thousand of them.

I am scared to death and standing still. I feel them on my shoulders witness my unfolding. Their hot electric breath, annihilating.

And you keep telling me to pray.