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Knitting
January 21, 2008
The veins weave like a yarn glove.
I’m pulling threads,
Snagging on rough things.
This young body will be old soon.
I’m feeling lost
And feeling empty
While people learn to grow.
August makes a fire in me,
But it’s January and the leaves are
Falling now.
I’m the one missing out.
I’m like a baby falling into the jaws of a shark,
Into the jaws of hell.
My routines are killing me.
I thought that a good sleep would make me feel sane,
But instead I just felt
More tired.
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