everything about me is sick.
maybe in the rad way i used to be,
or maybe i'm just ill.

there are worse things.
my body could turn on me
while my mind is going sour.

(my soul is rotting you can smell it on my breath.)

my eyes are always open
and life-
it isn't sweet enough.

sweat drips down my spine
and i shiver while someone
whispers hallelujah in the silence.

(i'm sorry but i am no longer a green girl. my leaves are turning brown.)

albert kamus is this
absurd enough for you:
loving and loving, running dry?

everyone says i'm not a waste
of the space
i've been occupying

but i dare not occupy yours.
you are too clean,
and god, am i sick.