In the absence of genius

so what of it that i still struggle? i will go on
struggling. struggling living. “life is that
which is capable
of error.”
I like this presence
and that absence.
I fulminate in words foam mouth
blankness
pervades the crevices where life moves like
a warm worm a theme in the glass. Oxymoronic Gibbrish.
he called my first, my last attempts.
and i believe it. so what
that i go on and question, my right to speak. my right.

but am i right to speak?

so what if something’s lacking, missing, i am
that someone i know well whose presence, absence
hangs dead in the water,
i'm afraid that if i keep this place i will become it.
stuck in place. keep on screaming: wake up!
and nothing moves. perhaps fear is
we’re stuck. all here. in place
of living, thinking, loving, moving… dance
and know my breath is not a state.