Between my kryptonite,
and beautiful men

I cannot help
but wager myself
between broken and replaceable -

I have become numb to compliments,
and reclusive to the world just means
keeping my bedroom curtains closed.

I sleep with sunlight,
and shower in moon dust:

Oh God,
hold my hands within prayer
for I tremble, shake, this body
an earthquake of this eclipsing depression,

and I am so tired
and I am so tired
and I am so tired.