I am Sloth Like

I have neither the time, wherewithal or energy to find myself again Lost in the bowels of my hovel, I am too exhausted to begin the hunt Piles of clothing, empty boxes, bags of junk, have immobilized me If I was younger, if I had more energy, if I had more time. Excuses keep me immobile, immovable, in a sloth-like state How did this place get to be such a hoarder’s nightmare? My breathing is difficult in coming, I feel sick most of the time The real me died a long time ago, under this disgusting meat suit I am too sick, my arthritis is kicking in, I can feel my asthma More excuses, I stop writing, I stop painting, I sit in a recliner Clicking a TV remote over and over and over Binge watching TV shows that put me to sleep After my nap, I might begin, I think, but I do not I am lost, in the bowels of inertia and lethargic apathy. The new me is no go-getter, more of a me-loser. If I do not want to lose myself completely, I had better change.