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The Doctor Said Wear Your Hood
Can't see myself, all that I experience are outer shells,
Every hope contrasts, all that I could possibly want repels,
Lacking nutrition, but not as in vegetables or fruits,
Dysfunctional military of desires, too diverse the recruits,
Dusty orange fights black, the one lit park bench beckons,
I contemplate here, yet in the end no more than counting seconds,
Social support - ironic how I fall, how excruciatingly the safety net hurts,
Surrendered, surrounded only by the comfort of my dirty, hooded sweatshirts.
