Let's Not Fool Ourselves

While you wait, time digs at you
with tiny claws, the itch bleeds,
you find lifting a sandwich and a
glass of milk almost beyond effort,
and if you try to take a nap,
the ceiling makes faces at you
until you roll to a sitting position
limp in your mind.
What is there to say, you ask
yourself, what password do I know?
But you aren’t bugged for answers
and you know it. You want her to
come and wring the neck of your
anxiety and throw it in the garbage can,
and she doesn’t come.