who else feels like they have
a few dozen dead butterflies
in their stomach?
my gut use to
give me intuition,
but all i get now
are bones.
i swear
this place
turns emotion to
transactions of the soul.
once,
i caught myself
scheduling open afternoons
for free thought
& i shook, shook awhile.
now that awhile
is just another note
taped to my bathroom mirror.
swear if i don’t stop myself,
one day the glass will read,
Don’t forget you exist.
Sean Selbach is a poet living in Chicago, IL