The Great Drying-Up is coming.

I can feel it in

the way I’m beginning

to flicker

and calcify.

Like suddenly I don’t care

about lemon candy or

the nervous filaments on the inside

of lightbulbs or

the way bismuth, like water, is denser when it’s liquid.

It is coming,

and with it, the knowledge

that I will have to spend the rest of this life

doing something,

not enough.

I cannot conceive of a fate worse than this.