Touching The Oven At Work

If my heart pumps blood through my veins…

If my eyes turn light into sight…

If it still hurts, touching the oven at work…

Why do I feel dead? 

Everything twitches that should. 

All of my reflexes flex.

Like I still crane my neck when I light cigarettes.

I’m worried that you’re nearby and you’ll see. 

But you’re not. So

I heave thunderclouds from my lungs.

No, you’re not. So

I shoot coal smoke from my nose.

I stay awake until five. I guess I’m alive

Although I feel dead.

Atlas don’t scoop his own food.

My paychecks ain’t cashing themselves.

If I’m dead and gone how’d the laundry get done?

I feel a heartbeat but I don’t know whose. 

Small signs of life rinse across all the surfaces In my apartment 2a. 

The toothbrush is wet. There’s crust on the towels. 

Somehow the bed is made. 

I feel a heartbeat but I don’t know whose.

I feel a heartbeat but I don’t know whose. 

I stay awake until five. I guess I’m alive.

You’re gone. I’m dead.