Itchy in a purple chair.
My body wants nicotine again and it’s doing the jitters
My eyes are red and swollen and hot,
But this room is an icebox so I crunch up and rot,
Staring.

My thoughts reign wild and rampant in this empty space.
I watch them inwardly as my head bobs slowly back and fourth
Oh heavy shoulders, I can’t let you give.
Oh mind, prepare for the next shot, or you’ll never live.
Don’t stop staring.

For a life filled with such a desire to reach,
Your fingers never seem close enough
To touch correctness or grasp responsibility,
Shoulders, you weigh me down.
Don’t draw your eyes away.

If I look away these shoulders will weigh me to the floor,
The load will increase, until I’m under the boards,
In the dirt, below the earth,
And I will be staring.
Don’t stop reaching.