I feel anxious, weepy, and weak.
A box in a baby stroller with no crooked wheels.
Gotta try to remember the security code.
To lock up this house that I don't own
against men who are not my enemies
-enemies speak to me through walls
-enemies always threatening
-enemies far away but here
-an anonymous boot print in the ruin
I lock up my house and stare at my small pile of flammables
things that are no more mine than when they are picked from the dumpster.
I waste this way
When I should be desperate...
desperate to be a man.
*edit #2 made on the starry night of September 9th 2012 having drank a beer to salute the end of summer. I will have another tomorrow to salute Monday (around the same time) for being almost over. In that way I am very much like Garfield.
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