i'm getting a bit antsy in my skin:
a bit too tired, a bit too thin
and perhaps right now a bit like sin,
a bit like an unplayed violin.
i chalked it up to the unsettling din
but maybe it's something inside me, within—
something beside me, a has-been,
something to fight me again.
it's coming back, coming now,
and it thinks—i think—it'll win.