He looks in the mirror every day same as you.

The difference is he doesn’t shave anymore.

He’d like to buzz the rest of his head and be completely bald,

But he doesn’t have a razor,

So the shaggy bits have grown out long

Around his ears.

He turns away,

Faces the door,

Takes his dingy overcoat 

From off the hook,

Pulls his hurting shoulders gingerly through the sleeves.

He locks the deadbolt and silently

Makes his way down a windy street.

What will he do today?

It doesn’t matter anymore.

He used to go to the library.

It was warmer than his apartment,

Lots of books to read,

Other excitement going on.

But now, he just wanders on and on

Down the road,

Unwinds the threads that snap and crackle

In his head all day.

And if he doesn’t say too much,

It’s not because he’s such a bore,

It’s just that nothing matters anymore.

-jenn