Poet in the City

Just take a look at me, I’m city crushed!
My nerves as wrung-out anxious as a doll
Tear twisted by small shaking hands, and hushed
By neon fears, my lips won’t move at all.
Take a good stare: I’m in complete regress.
My brittle ribs, like twelve parentheses,
Hold caffeinated panic, embrace stress,
Contain the sloppy ruby hurt of me.
Fan-fucking-tastic, ain’t I? Check me out,
My furtive shadowed eyes like rain on glass.
No sleep last night — I’ve learned to do without;
Relentlessly, my mind will never rest —
Always obsessed, forcing my pen to stutter
Divinities my mouth’s too torn to utter.

1999. A semi-sonnet from my first year in college. Heehee.