parasocial (fill in the blank)

through a glittery kick-drum there's a beat that says 'come on kid, come on kid,'
and i do. it's all i know now.

i'm a drone but at least i'm eating.

i roll out of bed because you did,
i brush my hair and paint my face and
hide under creased shadows of light,
because it's something to do;
because you walked these paved steps first.

you'll never know my name and
i don't want you to.
i don't need you to.

i just need something to anchor me to the third floor,
something to hold in the window panes
when i decide to press my shivering body against bulletproof glass;
when i slide down the cold plexi
in a heap of hiccups.

more than anything, thank you for being a bomb-shield.