SICK WITH

Remember
what you said you’d accomplish
by thirty?
I don’t.
I can’t recall all I expected
to have done by now.

I never thought it would be so hard
or I’d get this soft.
I am slow.
I am stunted.
Every day
I am less free
to be whom I was always meant to be.

I had such potential
but now I feel sick with syphilis
and suffer like Sisyphus:
pushing my bigass balls
up a hill until
they get away from me
and I race after them
never catching up.

It’s such that
I’ll never achieve
my majority of intended expectations.
When did this happen?
What transformed me?
How did I alter
from that which could be
into this?