I was clutching at something today

right in my center

there is a black

tangled ball

of string

if you look closely

the threads are

made of tuning forks

and mysteriously

and inconsistently

their resonance

warms my insides

but sometimes

when they are soaked in liquor

they swell and expand

until I feel the pressure

in my stomach

and I think

I have to do something

or else I'm going to die

but what I never realize

is that death was not an option

it's automatic and unchosen

like being born or

shitting your pants after

slurring your dying words

and you were never a part

of the negotiations