the debt of the dying

2012-11-05 | 10:49 a.m.

These days I'm so tired and hungry
That all emotions register
As some vague form of indigestion
Varying only in severity.
I careen down the daylight
Like an insect in repose;
Each leg crooked solemnly
Towards 3 o'clock.
Every vicious calorie ingested
Is posthumously converted.
A bolt of anxiety.
A systematic assault of the senses.

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