I may well have been born with it
a perpetual laziness, a non-existence
twinned with an urgent need
to be everything to everyone at once

But I couldn’t, and it killed me
led me back to the bed where I lay still
crushed by a longing for something to offset
the longest stretches of nothing
a January without pills is an empty one
but I cannot go back to bed



Filed under Poetry

4 responses to “D.

  1. J

    I can’t even explain how much I love this. Best depiction of this feeling I’ve read to date.

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