breakfast

i feel absolutely shitty
i’m hungry
i’m thirsty
i’m cranky
i’m groggy
i have no will or interest in anything
i want to stay in bed
i want to cry
i want to not wake up
i want to dream forever
but my eyes hurt
they're the puffy of shut too long
i’m losing patience with my skin
can’t decide if i’m too hot or cold
all the clothes have run up and are suffocating me
pulling
i’m entangled and still with knots and i struggle
to shake them off
undo them
all i think of is to kick
shove
grunt
roll over and fall flat
on a stolid floor that offers a slap
reminds me
there's a limit
the floor's a limit
bottom's a limit
i am still
my body complains
it says move
range
let me move is kind of what i say
but i stay
the floor feels nice
and it feels cool when i writhe
scraping bottom
then
i am on foot
looking outside
disheveled
yeah
the same as every day
except today i’ve said the words out loud
they'd look
i can see me mirrored
it's not the glass i’m less there
and i remember my meal of the day before and i get thirsty
probably what i’ll have today
suicide creeps up on you
i wonder if they'll call it that
a few months later
lying on the floor
one hand on my dick and
one hand holding breakfast
breakfast
i’m all out of breakfast