Timeshock by John F Keane
What happened here? Did someone creep inside
My mind and body? Someone fat and old?
This dimpled gut, this wheezing belly-fold,
What parts of me are these? A rising tide
Of melancholy, anger and decay?
The dried libido withers in its seed,
A wasted force; a lone, infertile weed,
An irksome imp made for another day.
The stranger settles in his new abode
And will not leave. I glimpse his sagging face
In passing windows: jowly, old and raw;
A spectre of myself that stalks abroad
And frightens children. Quickly run the days
And swifter still the waves that storm the shore.