I am so nervous, unaccustomed

to the seriousness of my recent thoughts.

Nothing has mattered for a long time now,

but I am changing.

I’m beginning to care once more

when for eons I have given myself over to numbness,

resigned myself to apathy.

Now a curious sickness has crept in,

filling my mind with plans and action words.

Wishful thinking has bubbled up from somewhere

deep inside that I had forgotten about because

for so long it had been hidden.

It bubbled up and the feelings are so strong

that I can’t eat and I am exhausted

with the wild energy that belongs

to children or romantics.

I am neither of those things: I doubt, I mistrust.

Time passes, I have grown;

time passes, I am jaded.

So what do I call this jittery, rambunctious,

spirited, frightening, brash and chaotic

feeling I have inside of me?


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