my man is lonely in a hotel while i am nothing and nowhere and in bliss

a literal
genius,
branded
as such by
those with the
money
and status
to bestow
the title,
a literal
genius
with a
sizable financial reward
for the title,
a literal
genius
with meaningful
work,
with respect,
with validation,
though perhaps
without friend.
a literal
genius
uses the
disconnect of
social media
to speak of
loneliness;
writing
(again)
in a hotel room,
at a desk
(again),
with a mirror
directly in front of it.
the
genius
speaks of
loneliness
to the thousands of
“followers”
(but not
“friends”),
i,
myself,
being one such
entity
(follower)
and
non-entity
(friend).

i think,
alone
as i am,
i think
i should not
think.
if i
think,
i think
“if a literal
genius
with financial
rewards and
social validation
and respect and
acclaim
cannot escape the loneliness,
what chance have
i?”.

to get
better,
you give
up.

to get
better,
you let
go.

to get
better,
you don’t
think.

to get
better,
you don’t
try to be
understood.

the floor is
made of
discipline and
ritual.
the floor will
always support
you.

up
above
the floor,
wide open
space.