I Don't Look it Any More

I know I don’t look it any more.
My steps aren’t as light 
and my eyes aren’t as orgasmic.
Something within me
has befriended autumn;
something that I exude
is dryness.

I only look at people dancing -
and tapping of feet 
nauseates me.
People, when they get closer,
appear to me 
so distant.
I know I don’t look it any more.

I’m tired of trying to remember -
I’m weary of having to create
memories.
Why does every city I go to
offer me souvenirs?
I’m tired of the load of pictures
that are thrust upon me
when I sleep.

I am tired of pretending 
that I am sleeping.