Body
by Sam M. Phillips

Head in hands,
Exhausted,
No sleep,
Fed up.

Watch the cockroach,
Brown,
Yellow,
Stripped shell,
Questing antennae,
It sniffs and searches.

A slow ominous dripping,
Down-pipe,
It has rained sometime in the night.

Background noise,
Pulse of crickets,
White cicada static.

Hunger,
No appetite,
Repulsed by the thought,
But feeling empty and weak,
It would calm my mood.

Dry eyes and wet ears,
Sore back and cold skin,
So sick of living in a body.