​Atrophied

I’m in love with the dust that pollutes my lungs.

It brings me back to a youth I recall too much.

Skipping class, failing out, I did it all for her.

Parents paid, I couldn’t stay, and I barely learned.

——

I got a grip on what it takes just to stay alive,

But still don’t know my way to the other side.

Handed out, hand-me-down, a silver platter.

My parent’s home, my parent’s cash, I’m just matter.

——

I’ve been told that this shame is a passing thing,

But then why’s my shape imprinted in my sheets.

I haven’t tried, I haven’t moved, I’ve been stagnant,

And the few things I’ve done are just reactive.

——

Another day of punching holes in the drywall.

Lately I’ve been surprised that there’s a wall at all.

It’s been six years, two months, and eleven days.

These things should break, but instead they stay.

——

My mom and dad, I wonder what they’ve thought

As they’ve watched their son drown in the thaw.

I know it’s not the end, but that’s hard to see.

I think it’s time that I move, but I’ve atrophied.