I feel like


I don't know my own body anymore.
I don't control anything it does.
Am I crying? Again? How peculiar.

I brushed my hair this morning...
however unnessassary it seemed.
Busy work, all of it.
Who would expect a made-up face,
and fresh breath, from a girl
whose face resembles
a swollen raspberry.
Smile? Re-teach me. The corners
of my mouth seem to have forgotten.

Am I shaking? I'm standing. That's progress
for progress' sake.  How curious.

Nothing distracts from this, only
the periodic aching in my chest
that reminds me to inhale. I wonder
how long it will be before I realize...

If i can't control my own breathing
how can I keep him out of my bed?
How can I decide if i want him
there or not?  And if I do? What happens
tomorrow?

The grapefruit sliced in half
honey drizzled, cinnamon sprinkled;
Busy work.  All of it.
It tastes bad.
I don't know what comes next.