losing my head

I awoke this morning to find my head so cumbersome that my neck could no longer take the strain

millennia bearing down on just twenty two years of skin, sinew and a soft cushion goaded into life by second helpings all day long

dreams of grandeur piled under the concrete block of the work-pay-rent beat, the wallet that never stretches to a new pair of shoes but softly squeezes another round at the bar, caresses cocaine and greases the cab driver's palm

the thousand books I devoured were light; the unbearable weight of the millions I will never read finished me

today my body crumpled and sagged with the impossible understanding of what it will never be.