~~Unable~~

I'm losing something
like myself only
moreso,
I'm slipping away
between my fingers
and forgetting,
periodically,
to breathe.
And I

feel

inadequate

Like suddenly realizing
I never knew
what I was doing
all those years,
all those times
I imagined
I'd found something.
And I

feel

so stupid

Because really,
that's how it always
was and always is
when the shit
hits the fan--
I turn out the fool,
and the one who
screwed up
in the first place.
And I

feel

defiled

When you pry at me,
when you grasp
and you cry at me
saying how much you care,
and how that's the
only reason
you won't go away
when I scream
for some privacy.
And I

feel

like dying

Like curling up
in the corner with
my washed-up
recycled
imagery;
like forgetting I
ever even thought
I could do it.
And I

feel

so broken

By knowing how right
you are,
by knowing how
wrong
I was every time
I swore I could,
I swore I would
do it because it
wasn't idle dreaming.
And I

feel

self-abused

When I realize
you were so,
so right;
and I never stood
a chance with my
washed out monotones
and dramatized fallacies.
And I

feel

empty

And I

feel

'icidal

And I

feel

like feeling
is too much effort,
and breathing
and thinking
and living is
so much effort.
And I

feel

so tired. . .
so tired. . .
And I

feel. . .

Unable. . .

~(c)7/2001 The Mad Poet (A.K. LaBelle)