Deafening by Marc Isaac Potter

• Always: talk about how death is defined. I don’t know what to say I am at a loss for words my yellow socks – if socks – keep loving me even though I’m a nervous wreck I’m here in the hotel looking for my pants I have a meeting in a few minutes and I’m looking for my pants I tried oh yes I tried not to spill soda pop on my pants but it was for naught.

• I really doubt I mean no really what I mean is I really doubt I doubt everything I doubt that my pants exist I doubt that the curtains on the wall of the hotel room are keeping me safe

I sit down in the corner totally exhausted realizing that I now need to go to a psychiatric hospital

This means I will not be making it to my meeting today

The curtains on the window seem to be changing into a more pleasant more translucent color as though the sun is trying to touch me.

Copyright ©2023 Marc Isaac Potter All rights reserved

Marc Isaac Potter (we/they/them) is a differently abled writer living in the San Francisco Bay Area. His interests include blogging by email and Zen. They have been published in Fiery Scribe Review, Feral: A Journal of Poetry and Art, Poetic Sun Poetry, and Provenance Journal. Marc does not have a dog named Wilbur 

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