Poems

Sick With It

Ruth Nineke New Poetry 'Sick w It'

You don’t wake up

knowing

you’re going to feel

sick with emotion all day.

Or maybe

you do.

Maybe I should know

by now.

Whatever

I don’t want to deal with

always comes out

in dreams.

Any given dream can

zap all my power

for an entire day.

But I don’t cry

about that thing anymore.

I know I won’t again.

It’s just another shade

of grey now,

inside the sky-spanning

black cloud that trails my life.

The things I want,

I’ve never stopped wanting.

And no matter

how I spin my wheels

to ignore them,

or weave lies

to deny them,

my desire still infiltrates

my every waking

and sleeping moment.

I am sick with desire.

Ill

with longing, jealousy,

desperation.

I shiver and shake

as I oscillate

between destitution and fury.

I don’t know

whether

I’m lying to myself

when I pretend

I’m being responsible

in my choices,

as many of my choices

appear

to be mistakes.

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