Self Service

I'm 

falling 

backwards

through the floor of 

myself,

panic wet and shameful.

I pinch

until blood surfaces.

The customer watches.

 

I don't exist enough to care.

 

"Cash or card?"

My voice,

hollow as a dropped tin can.

Reviews

[jacob erin-cilberto]

"I don't exist enough to care" great line...
Life makes us almost unhuman....
their is no self, just what society lays out for us to fulfill.
I harken back to your last poem I read...we are the poor dumb slobs who mop up the floors of the rich and they just give us that condescending smile.
j.

[abbypullanlitandpoetry]

Jacob, this poem is almost a distant cousin of my "Open World" poem - it's my reality at the minute whilst at university. Deeply unhappy but needing money. To live how the others do would be remarkable.
You've hit on exactly what I was trying to capture - how life makes us almost unhuman, where there's no self, just what society lays out for us to fulfil. You're absolutely right to connect it back - we are the poor dumb slobs who mop up the floors of the rich whilst they give us that condescending smile.
Thank you for seeing these connections, Jacob. Your understanding keeps me writing.
Abby x