oh, i'm dying

oh, i'm dying

i've got one foot on the floor

haven't felt this bad in a long time

if ever before

don't know what's for supper

or should i even eat

my belts not too tight

i can still touch my feet

there's wine in my tall glass

and several words on the page

indicating discomfort

with impending age

but it's not my birthday

the candles are quiet

no Russian music playing

from Pussy Riot

just an odd ache in my stomach

uncomfortably strong

to pretend that it's absent

would be irresponsibly wrong.

oh, i'm dying.