G-d knows I have tried
but he did nothing to help me.

I met my father at the end of the world
in a soundless meditation;
the still waters surrounded us
on some obsolete island,
but he could offer me nothing
apart from the same watery smile
I find in the mirror each time I drink.

Love came to me once
but I never felt worthy of it.

Since then, human touch was reduced
to formulaic platitudes;
a handshake from unerring acquaintances
and embraces from old friends
that always end too soon.
It is hard to be kind to yourself
when your bed is resolutely vacant.

Words may come to comfort others
but I am tired of hearing my voice.

Self-worth was lost to cigarette butts
and a loose grip on my sanity;
tasteless food sits in my mouth
and I can no longer appreciate
the fruits of privilege and shelter.
I am shielded from the rain
but the winter still finds me.

G-d knows I am doing my best.
It never quite seems enough.