Drained

Have you ever felt your life drain,

as if it swirled and bubbled down the sink you get ready at?

Have you ever felt like your soul has been stolen?

Like the Grim Reaper ran off with it like an expensive electronic,

tucked beneath his armpit?

Sirens blaring?

Mind reeling?

Heart stopping?

I have.

I’ve felt like I’ve been bleeding to death,

but I have no wounds;

I have felt like I’ve been drowning,

but there’s no water around me

I try to stop up the drain with the hair that’s falling out of my aging head;

with the clumps of shaving cream I use to show I give a damn.

Clean shaven.

Clear face.

Smile?

I shove down the ties that I’ve worn for too long,

Only it drains even faster.

I drain faster.

The sink is porcelain but it’s stained

with facades and make-believe costumes.

It’s just junk tied with a bow to look nice;

tied with a tie to look professional.

Tied?

Bound.

Won’t the stealer of souls feel stupid?

When he realizes what he stole isn’t worth much;

isn’t worth anything