I feel
Like retiring to my bed
And lying there
Until spiders come
And cobweb me securely
To the wall I stare at

I feel
Like I’m typecast
As Pagliacci,
Recitar! Vesti la Giubba
Sung ad nauseam
Until a shepherd’s crook tugs me
Through the curtain

And it seems
I haven’t grown tired of losing
My footing while I reach for the summit

And I feel
Like there are only so many times
Someone can tourniquet their limbs
Before hesitantly clutching
To the handle of another departing car’s door