age is an accumulation
of various despairs that
pile up until once soft
skin becomes a testament
to indescribable agony

i wonder
how many sunless days
spent beneath
untethered storms
have ticked away
from my grand total

how many i simply
wasted while
wishing to die

does it show
mile markers on
the road map
etched into my pallid flesh
can you cut
me in half
count the concentric
rings of torment

i don’t know
where exhaustion
hunger and
headache converge
but i know
these days take
a month to pass
and i am not sure
i have the weeks to spare