Not happy with this one, but at least it’s something.
They say creative types are messy,
sleep in, stay up late. But when
do I get any creating out of it?
At thirty it no longer seems cute.
The pull of bed, the emptiness
of it, both failures. My hands
are idle and the rest of me
heavy. When I grow up maybe
I’ll do better, cook and love and
get to work on time but for now
there’s too much weight on these bones
and I can’t grow up, not yet.