Poem: A Failure To Read The Room

A poem based on a very real anxiety dream

I had a dream, I bombed so bad,
in planned performance art. A punk
attempt at a poetry reading that was
a living hell for both me and the crowd.

So committed to the bit I could not
pull out, nor step away, and nothing
lucid here — no idea I was dreaming.
Have you ever had an indulgent

nightmare? The problem all your
own. You do not wake up screaming.
Instead it sits inside your head and
feels like actual pain, perhaps for

days. You have so much you can’t
explain; the sting of how it could be real
takes hold and will not budge. My new
book comes out in about seven weeks…