"Bored.." I told her
"just bored of this, of here. Of you"

What is it inside me that grows like a virus?
infects my weak will, and forms a thick exoskeleton
I can go out today and recover in time for tomorrow
I can take the next pill that's handed to me, and greet the trip like an old friend

How can it catch up with me
if I keep changing
the way I'm running