I’ve shelved my grief. I’ll hollow underneath.
I’m lonely and deflated like the last blown party favor.
I am the shoulder with silver tinsel not rainbow confetti.
I do not exist apart from me.
I am not coordinated.
Watch me and see.
I am the midnight stagger.
I am the New Year’s warrior,
I’ve crashed into my reflections, hard.
I am the peroxide on the shelf,
never used until something tragic
and comical works its blood spell.
I am a telemarketer in hell
selling only problems when you ring the bell.
I am good at myself. I am swimming in the drink.
I am a fish down to the bones.
I am alone. I am feral,
a cat lothario gone aero,
not concerned with today,
Why? When you can think all day about yesterday.
Why trust you, when I can spit and cuss at you?
I fall, not backwards but forwards–
away from your tender arms.