An Insidious Illness
I stare through the TV as if it is a window
I write and it is all wrong
Depleted putting up dishes
Intolerant to the pain that forges in my shoulders
Fatigue settles in as if at home
Lost with no hope of being found
Longing for my once upon a time life
Living a life as desolate as the desert floor
Sullen eyes give me away
My blonde hair wild, greasy, my clothes disheveled
I do not care about war, weather, or politics
Clothed in irritability
Bathed in insomnia
My presence is absent
I am but a shell
My fists wail
Waiting is the most formidable
Form of punishment
Hope the other
My brain lies to me
And I believe her
I think about dying
The methods I’d take
The note I’d write
An insidious illness
Lives within
I live without