The Disgruntled Hermit

Am I on your mantlepiece
        mounted by a nail in hand
        suspended and craving
        waning thin

Am I stress fractures in secret
        heart palpitations
        tangible notions of aging
        dancing as the sirens pass
        a seizure of strobe lights
        misreading mankind

Am I feeling like an alien in my own skin
        finding liberation in this world that I created
        walking Riverside at sundown
        tempting fate, fast cars—it’s all too loud

Am I whispering “I like you” as the road curves
        phoning back home to our self-professed crew
        the needle of our twenties
        the phlebotomy of our impurities

Am I breaking every tradition
        every promise I made
        every “last night” I staked
        spending every ounce of grace
        left here to waste
        in the emptiness of memory