Shelf Life

Angry when I found no joy in things meant for delight,

I’d put myself up on a shelf

walk out into the night

drag a hopeful body through the darkness with half friends

listen to repeated words meant for destructive ends.

Sometimes I’d let them kiss my lips and think I’d get my fix

But nothing seemed to be enough to silence discontent.

I’d slowly walk back to my dorm afraid to face myself,

cursing every single moment wasted on the shelf.