Damaged.

Have I fogged up my spectacles too often,
not clearly focusing on what I must do?
Disassociation between the nothingness
and spirit I encourage.

I don't crack my knuckles on my right hand,
my arms innocently on my hips to
try to straighten the chaos of these bones.
Legs are not growing strong, they ache
from standing and dashing to counters
where I ring and wrap value
with no lesson learned.

I never clocked out yesterday, so those
hours were spent giving me credit
for what never existed...

I became careless overnight?

Caffeine, drive-thrus at 10 o'clock at night,
stopping the engine to hunt through grimy
coins, then finally feel the edge of
credit cards.

Hours ago, I made a vow I would
follow through and make visible
the waste I symbolically handed
to others.

Am I becoming drunk off of my mistakes,
like one who lets the night obliterate every
inhibition?

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Written 10/13/13 @ 12:22 AM