I am held together by glue and staples and
purple construction paper.

I fear not death, but life.
I am tattered and torn,
flammable and too close to flames,
slow-roasting.

I am a never-ending *** of coffee,
a broken alarm clock,
the warm side of a pillow,
the empty tube of toothpaste,
an unsolved crossword puzzle written in pen.

I fear not death, but life without poetry.