Grumph

[More poems. No one completely evil thing going on in my life. Just generally not happy. Was feeling like this before I left college. Was thinking vacation would fix it. Worried that vacation does not help. Wondering if this is semi permanent state of being, and that last three years were a reprieve. Or anomaly.]

On Sunday evening
my heart curled up in my chest
like a snail
and died.

On Monday
I dreamed that once,
I had been a star.
Of course, I told myself-in-the-dream,
I'd moved on to bigger
better things
since then.
I thought that from a great distance,
in the same way I had once thought as a star.

On Tuesday
I had the wrong kind of cake
and two fights.

I felt the warmth of my palms
sitting in the room with my head against the wall
and thought
I must be angry

but felt little,
as one who is deep in sleep
hears a distant truck crashing into traffic:
you turn over
you mumble
but do not wake.