You wake up early already feeling an itch behind your eyes and at the base of your spine.
behind your throat. Sweating but **** - it's November and you had the window open. Four cups of coffee and seven cigarettes to start the day. A tip: if you put your hands in your pockets then nobody can see them shaking.
"You look hungry. Eat something."
force down a McMuffin or two at noon and a ham sandwich before work. Drive the car.
that night work is noise.  The shift ends with a paycheck.
Go withdraw thirty bucks. Find some *****.
"A guy's gotta cut loose."
a guy's gotta be cut off.
***** this ***** that
twisted up so tight. wound around the bend. coffee and the dashboard lights. Radiation.
three AM fumbling with the keys - alone under a street light at the bus stop
wake up to the tv playing infomercials. Shower. Now repeat.

when it seeps into my pores my hands shake
no one can see it but I know it's there
it may not exist but it still makes me panic.

it is 3:14 and I can't control the weather
sometimes giraffes stick their heads in the clouds to see better
sometimes I make up facts to distract myself from the panic.

it is 3:16 and I can feel it in my bloodstream
of course there's nothing there but my panic notes otherwise
if this is a disease why am I the only one dying?

it's 3:19 and you put your hands on mine.
the warmth washes over my skin and I feel the tension escaping,
like you are ******* the venom from a fresh wound.

it's 3:58 and you are still here
I can feel you seeping into my skin but
there is no panic.