999 Z49
my back is killing me
my hair is curling
the weather is great
my jaw is cracking
my fingers are stained
the weather is fine
my chest pops when I move
my old pants don’t fit
the weather is okay
my legs are throbbing
my car is low on gas
the weather is uncaring
my hangover won’t leave
my shirt is stained
the weather stays the same
and I can’t figure it out
and I stay in the rain
and I watch the lake ripple
and I don’t understand
and my sink reeks of old cocktails
and these words mean the same
even if they sound different
and lord knows
I feel it
and I’d write a better poem
if I could
