“Time is moving on without me —”
“but you’ve been through a lot!
it takes some time to disinter
oneself from anxious thoughts.”

I guess I should be patient
as everybody says,
and disregard this feeling
that I’ve reached some kind of end.

Though I’ve grown accustomed
to the inside of my door;
the way a year just disappears
isn’t novel anymore.

Five years of obsessions
made me underweight,
which, in turn, brought a headache on
for twenty-five days straight.

And though it has subsided, now
the din of my own breath
and the deafening sounds inside my head
are all my ears accept.

So now I’m eating protein
to get back function in my ears
so that I may hear again
the rush of passing years.

And when I get back to the city
I’ll resume life as it was;
gaunt and isolated,
reading prose in Maisonneuve.

≋

August 14, 2021
12h43
Massachusetts