Another month has gone
wondering how much it would add to exile
banishment from this world
that I’ve created myself around…
As I nakedly dance with the birds’ merriment
on certain days, when I feel like it
when I don’t remember the cost of my translation.
Add it to my displacement tab please
as I yell and scream for something better
my friends are now acquaintances
since they know not how to measure time spent versus time left.
My potential has been broken
over-worked and wasted
I am too old for change or malleability
now fear surrounds my eyelids
giving them a terrible embarkment upon age
premature wrinkles cloud my synthesis.