Vacancy

I have worn all the shoes
in my closet,
they are there in a pile beneath the clothes.
This is where the peace lies, and the chaos, and the sleeplessness and the emptiness.
I eat beside an unfilled chair.  
I stare at an unmoving spot for one hour and ten minutes.
The days stream on through,
the want for the luxurious days, I never realised were luxurious at the time.
 
Here is where peace is buried.
 
I have no hands to masturbate with, I have no mind for the head spaces. I have no soul for the immeasurable passion.
 
Sign me up for posts I will fill well with nothing going on inside.
Sign me up to bathe and lay, and sit and eat, and sleep and wake for it means nothing to me now.
How can I, I who chose a better life with someone who truly loves me, feel desperately hollow?
Perhaps I am mad, ungrateful, unwilling to be any version of normal.
Perhaps I am sick.
 
I spin, on a pole, searching for good feeling.
You have me spinning for something to cling to and stop
spinning.
I spin, on a pole, searching for something still.
You have me spinning up a mountain I can barely bear
but we simply have to get up there.