10 minutes on the clock:

I’m not very in touch with myself.
I haven’t been touching lately,
haven’t been running my fingers
along walls and table edges.
some days I wake up
and I’m not real.
when I was younger it scared me more.
and I was younger once.

I have never fainted. lucky,
I think. I almost feel like I’m waiting.
or it’s some proof of
how much abuse my body can put with,
but I’m not as young as I once was.
I am tired, my body is heavy and tired
and aging every day. aging multiple days a day,
the way I treat it.
this is not an endorsement,
just an attempt at honesty.

I’m not good at honesty.
I like to hide, like when I was kid
curled up in the back of the closet
or under the bed.
when I tell you I’m claustrophobic I’m lying,
I like small spaces. I like being able to touch
both sides of corner.
knowing nothing can sneak up on me....