because when i’m a mess
when my hair is mussed because i’m clawing deep into it
when i question why, in the pitiful way that i do,
when i become what people would only look down on
when i am the person people think,
“why, that was unecessary”
to,

that’s what it is.
that’s how i feel

and i am a vent. a clogged one
and the janitor is off duty half the time
and it is so dusty in here
so all i do is choke and choke and choke
but when she is back,
i will let it all go. and she will look at what i have been suffocating on
and laugh. or scowl in disgust
and toss it into the bin she slides alongside herself
leaving me to gag for who knows how much longer.