I revoked my own rights to build an impressive website and haunt you with my ability to carry out strong and impressive tech projects. Why? Because I did not make any moves on it for weeks… and it was blocking my writing. A little mishap of someone interjecting and deciding that my data, files, and folders are worthy of peeking into and analyzing made me distrust computer, and the network. But, that is not the real reason I stopped writing. Truth be told, I am simply not interested in being a specific shape yet; or honoring any commitments an audience thinks I have towards them.

The details do not really matter. You are not really interested in whatever I choose to overshare and infect my twitter timeline with: my homesickness, my distrust of anything that does not explicitly require trust, and my own ability to twist myself up into knots before I tell my family “I kinda wanna come back home”.

So, here’s a poem I wrote instead.

prologue: begin in the valley of the gods
where mortal children are created

follow, like, and dance
the dance of claims and
party’s a jigsaw of legal puzzles

act 1: the call; the oracle speaks
of a strategy that creates
a joinder and an impleader

act 2: the struggle; caught between
demands, plagued by doubt
unite the stories for a
just and efficient resolution

act 3: the fall; collapsing under ambition
dreams haunted by failure
of          (their) contingencies
until time has come

act 4: the descent; spiraling
deportation, confronting
no demon departs its fate

act 5: the rebirth;

rising from the ashes

stronger and more powerful under
and over
fate’s decree; set in stone
desperation is a tempest
shunned
stunned
for provisions

and a provision awaits the patient
alone

and she is patient

and I am patient

and we are all patient

to act finally towards

act 6: the ascension;
where gods sweeps the floor
do not be tempted
do not seek
what is meant to be
who is meant to break
a heart that trusts
more than funds

emerging as a goddess

master of all destiny

at last

the broom of the system* is found

and I sweep

• The Broom of the System is a novel by David Foster Wallace about a young woman named Lenore who is obsessed with language and communication. Lenore works at a publishing house, where she is tasked with finding the author of a mysterious manuscript that has been submitted to the company. As Lenore delves deeper into the manuscript and the world of its author, she begins to uncover secrets about her own family and her place in the world.