Worthless Poem by Rosemary Khoury

I sit here typing,
watch the skies,
dead air engulfs and freezes my ears and nose and toes and eyes.
My throat burns arid,
like dry ice and my head begins to pound,
for my judgment,
young and foolish,
has invaded my health both mind and self,
I gave it up,
all I diminished to one I knew so little of,
who slipped in and out of my mind,
like an undeveloped character in a novel,
two dimensional and frightening,
and I fear what I know,
that this was self-inflicted,
and I am worthless and my company has left me alone.