I Am

I am a professional victim. I am still skies, bloodshot eyes, waking up or going to sleep at dawn. I am lazy days and wasted nights. I'm spilled milk, dark and dusty corners, and overflowing trash cans. I am broken lightbulbs, streetlamps washing out the stars. I am missed deadlines, misplaced papers, numbed senses, and microwave dinners. I am second guesses, deadlocked dreams, practicing a misanthropic vocation. I am quiet desperation, useless protests, making all the same choices again, and again, and again. I am crumbling walls, watching life like a made-for-tv horror movie. I am reached limits, crossed lines, flicked switches; and I am not going to break.