You try to hold it all, to pull it
from all the air around you
and hold it quivering in your hands
but you can’t, it keeps spilling out
like pudding, which is absolutely
ridiculous, isn’t it, but that’s
what grief is, ridiculous, like how
your entire town is just gone, one
day, burnt up, and you hear about it
from somewhere like Reddit, of all places,
next to a dog gif and a celebrity
being somewhat normal, drinking water
or volunteering with a smile on his face
(this isn’t happening to him), and you
read the comments and they’re useless,
nobody’s home or if they are they’re just
saying they’re okay or no one’s okay and
the ones that aren’t those are robots
crawling around and seeming to care
but you need someone to seem to care so
you let them hold you, you let them care
about the problem because it isn’t happening
to you, you aren’t there, in your town, your
planet, your life, it’s a dream or better yet,
a bad sitcom that’s a few seasons past
its prime, or something experimental from Netflix,
it isn’t happening, not to you, not to
anyone, the world isn’t ending, is it,
so you let someone else feel sad, that’s their
problem, not yours, you change the channel.