I am most uneasy
With others’ descriptions of me.
I feel limited…constrained…
Flattened to two dimensions;
Defined and imprisoned…
My space to be
Taken away from me.
My gaucheness will now
Become a slip.
Or, take for example, my forgetting things
This will be seen as something uncharacteristic…
-A change of heart?
-A change in the chemical balance of my brain?
-A sign of self-neglect?

Descriptions-
As generous as they are (if they are good),
Diminish your essence
And leave you instead
With a grand idea
That which, can perhaps survive
But never really live.
That which can grip you
But never become as easy
As your breath.
The inability to see oneself
Is the design of freedom.
You’re free to be
The unknowable and the indescribable.