For weeks will stay the remnants of one day
In my pocket, on my windowsill
A rubber band, a laundry bill
I’ll take that curse, I’ll let myself disperse
These reminders of the boy I’ve been
At my least representative
I hope I won’t realize in time
That I’m still trying to be canonized
I’ll stay out of my own hair
Press my hands in formless folds
Change in state through warm and cold
Then maybe I won’t feel so scared
For weeks I’ll say a summary of my state
All the things I’ve done, the shows I’ve seen
Narrativized endlessly
The twists, the turns, the same short stretch of words
Til I’m bored into awakening
Make an effort to make a scene
I hope I won’t realize in time
That I’m still trying to be canonized
I’ll stay out of my own hair
Press my hands in formless folds
Change in state through warm and cold
Then maybe I won't feel so scared