Light blinks heavy in my eyes. My pupils dilate and
my eyes prickle. They sting. They're dry and they
almost feel sandy because I'm so accustom to this dark.
Ouch, and my body is laden. I'm creaking with age that
I physically shouldn't have. There are bruises that aren't
visible, as well as some that are, but in the strange
florescent light everything seems bruised. When the lights
go out I am but whole, but when they're on, I'm damaged
goods. They tell me at work "write off anything that you
wouldn't buy" and honestly I wouldn't buy me. I'm not
even good enough for donated spoils, I'm a few days stale
already, so just scan me and X me off with a permanent marker.
Throw me in a trash bag, wheel me out.
My warm breath fogging the bag;
I'm fucking suffocating.
The end is near and the smell is rank.

Right now, I'd like a very large cardboard box. I would stuff it with
blankets and pillows, like I used to do when I was youngyoungyoung
(younger than I am now, because I'm certainly not old at the moment.).
I would lay in there until I fell asleep.

Comfort now comes corrugated, boys and girls.
Step right up, it's free if you ask nicely.