Prodigal

Too old for awkward despondency and angst
S’posed to swallow discomfort silently once past a certain age
Babe’s bubblegum amoxicillin to nan’s ten-horsepill-tuesdays
It’s not that its stuck in my throat that’s the problem
but the fact that it all comes back up anyway

Cause I’m strong willed with a weak stomach
Try To Choke It Down but still die malnourished 
Cause the only reward when I fight for it
Is the hot grip of nausea fore vomiting regardless and
I think I'm a failed experiment 
Cause I got no dreams for my big spirit
I got a loud voice that no-one hears
I got a fist cocked for my top critic -
I’ll throw that haymaker, ring my own ears
Dumb-spittin silver bells; ironic merriment

I'm too old to fail this calculus test today
Supposed to know enough to comprehend "by parts" in 15 days
I’m pretty sure I had more of my shit together back in second grade
But I’m just shrewd, I was never intelligent, 
“Gifted”s just a fat lie from the psych craze

Research can draw me in, strictly compulsively
No sleep for days as I drink in philosophy
But I sit in lecture with eyes swimming groggily 
Begging my hands to shape up and take notes for me - just record SOMETHING! 
Instead of shaking or drumming or doodling
While sounds crash around me in foreign cacophony
I cannot parse despite how hard I'm listening
Like Ojibwe women at catholic christenings

And I'm too old to let my bedroom look this way
Sandwich bags and mismatched socks and other evident disarray
I keep saying I’ll get around to it the next time there’s a free day
But theres too much on my plate to start to parse this mess out anyway

Cause I work hard but I’m disjointed
My brain’s a tornado of bellowing discourse
And my happiness tastes just like stale water
Mostly iron and dust and nothing further, licking old quarters and
I may as well just try to keep walking
No matter where I end up can't be more lost than
If I sit and I sulk and I stop moving

Guess it means I still have something to prove, don’t it?