i’m not convinced i can trust the reactions of most people. or anyone, really. reactions are so often the most senseless kind of expression because they are heavy with preconceived expectation and come from somewhere else, from a past pain or a false look or terrible abuse. people are so full of judgment and distortions. anxieties and confusion. they don’t know what they love and do not love because they are too concerned with listening to all the other people who don’t know either. it seems to me a grave waste of time to try to pull apart their pieces to understand where they are coming from and what they are still tangled up in when they stumble upon my poetry. it’s all just noise and what i am trying to get to is the quiet. inside the body of the writing is the quiet and that’s all i care about. i am busy trying to pull together my own shattered pieces, my own desires and fears. i am busy trying to learn how to really trust myself. because — because at the end of the day, at the end of the poem, at the end of my life, i’m the only one here.