I am sure Absolutely terrible horribly pathetically sure That I am running out of time Running out of strength. I most certainly have run out of faith. All that credit was used up years ago. And I’m only twenty. Surely this is impossible. I am so weak. A loser A bona fide freak. I am fading Wasting Even as I grow fatter And take more into my faltering body. Even wasted I cannot lay waste to my thoughts. I go to work. I feel inept. I go home. Kiss my family. Call my friends. Feel inadequate. I wake in the mornings. Feel incapable Of rising And taking on another day. But really I’m just incapable of making it stop. So don’t worry. There’s nothing to worry about I’m too frail And frightened To do anything of note. No worries. Nothing’s gonna change. I close my eyes See someone I’ll probably never see again Except in the tumult of my restless rest. I close my eyes Open them wide Down a coffee Can’t do much about the circles beneath my eyes But awake I am. Wandering a Home Depot Smile at a blond dyke holding a rosebush Move away from my mother shadow As she looks at faucets At storm door handles And babbles at a sales person. Drift, almost without purpose, Down an aisle. And trail my pale stub-fingered hands Down a length of rope. A spool Of surprisingly soft blue cord. And then Wander back to the faucets Back into the swirl and tumult Of clashing voices. Wish I was anywhere but here But there’s nowhere else I can be That I want to go.