Something

In this dreary morning
I force myself
out of bed
and I drag myself
into the shower,
where I stand
beneath running
cold water,
and for hours I shiver
but within minutes
I'm asleep.
Then I wake
on the bathroom floor,
and I lay still,
feeling the cold against
my skin.
Downstairs I eat
at a small table,
one chair,
but I can't find a spoon
or a thing
to eat,
and my stomach makes
an angry noise.
So I move to a new
location;
the room is dimly lit
and voices come from
the fuzzy television
in the corner.
I sit on an old
creaky couch
that moans loudly
with pain,
and although my eyes
are set on the screen,
my ears listen
for something-

June 7, 2001