my heart
isn’t a home
it’s a derelict
shack built
on a fault line
through no
fault of mine
this faulty mind
shudders and quakes
a fluidity in
disregarding
figurative physics
because no one
can explain to me
how bumblebees fly

the dichotomy
in the loneliness
of pushing people
away for their
own good

i cannot be
fixed
just accepted
as is
yet no one
accepts
the diagnosis
an exception
in logical logistics