Typewriter Series #3000 by Tyler Knott GregsonDo you know me,...

Typewriter Series #3000 by Tyler Knott Gregson

Do you know me, after all this time, all
these words?  Understand what makes me
tick, what spins the hour hand of this clockwork
brain?  I’m 10,000 things, half scare me, half
confuse.  I’m a train wreck mind, the giant crunching
jaws that turn cars to scrap, I’m the scrap and the
magnet that it clings to.  
I hold my own feet, bare with warm hands,
soothe myself with the chill and contrast.
I play with my ears, always have, from
when folks swore it’d stick them out
permanent and over-proud.  Twirl my hair, too,
but not to the point of bald spot or worry.
I carry mints, not for fresh breath, but breath
at all, same goes for the antihistamines
in the coin pocket, two there, one in the back
as I am terrified of this throat swelling
again.  

I am the desperate need of noise canceling headphones,
but I’m the guilt and reluctance to use them,
I’m the rub some dirt on it mentality
to the wounds I endure.  I am two million
radios on two million stations and not a single one
has a volume knob.  I write to feel sane,
though it only lasts until the final period,
Sisyphus, I call out to the mirrors I avoid,
how heavy is your stone?  I am skin that hurts
when touched gently by all but one,
the fire in the fingers of those who brush
against me.  I am dichotomy as sometimes I just need
to be held onto, like the world is spinning and I
cannot get a grip on the floor beneath me.  

Parties dismantle me, cannot be a wallflower
as sometimes I’m allergic to the flowers
on the wall.  I am incapable of small talk, I
tell truths and don’t know if they are too much,
too honest, if they sting when they land.  Three
hundred times a minute I remind myself to look
into your eyes.  Sometimes, without a moment
of warning, I must go or I am certain I will explode
and the shrapnel of me will discolor their finest
clothes.  

I’m the Irish goodbye,
knowing that sooner or later
I’ll see you again.

-Tyler Knott Gregson-