it isn’t existence
i dread
on an early
sunday morning
at the laundromat

no

it is existing
as a part of the wider world
i dread
with every fibrous cell
in my aching body

i want
to go back
to bed

then the nightmare
is one
i can awake from
have some
modicum of control over

yeh here i am
pretending to be human
hoping the sideways closure
of eyelids
slitted pupil
and general malaise
don’t give me away

just a lizard
on a rock
in blue jeans
letting the sun
warm him enough
to escape
under the bush