Emmy Appleseed

settling my self
into a chair of
inadequacy
and beat emotion.
i loathe my fingertips
and wished
they would play symphonies. 
i try to type
but feel myself washing up
under your shoes
step by step.
And I’m sticking like gum,
yesterday chewed
and spat out
onto a concrete conscience
where i met
my hubris and kissed its sandals.