tired, cold, and hungry
because it’s as pervasive as
an irregular chord stuck in your head
the notes in panic, staff lines shuddering,
accidentals like scalpels and dynamics in rhythm
only with the screech and screams of Doppler-like thoughts and Doppler-like pain and Doppler-like fear back and forth and back and forth and
the cacophony makes cold feet hurt tripping along.
i’m just hungry
just hungry for a rich life and success that can not come will not come when i am full
when i am full of fear and unrest and failure and i want
to throw up, first, because i cannot
swallow it down.