I have flaws
like other people
have world wars
or sores
I have creaks
and holes
inner souls
all jumbled up
and barking.

Part of my rage
at the acquiring
of age
is that the crumbling
patina of my dissolution
has brought with it
little wisdom
just me being old
alone here
with the mold.

Skin flakes
like fish food
and the heart breaks
depending on my mood
my hand shakes
for the want
of something crude
and I turn
but you’re not there.