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.