What Can I Do

What Can I Do

I’ve got something tightly wound

Inside my chest, I think around my heart. 

Because I can feel

My left branch bundle turning white

Like knuckles swollen above 

A rubber band. My breath 

is short and my arms and legs 

Twitchy. I know I’ve got to find a way 

To unwind. After all, I remember hearing 

That you’ll lose your finger 

If you leave that rubber band there 

For too long. 

Plus this killed my dad,

Stress. 

Well actually cancer did.

But stress is a fucking cancer anyway, 

And it always wins too.

So what can I do?

What can you do, asks my wife.

You’ve got to find a way 

To let it go, she says. But that’s the thing,

Once I’m wound up

Like this - like a toy with white plastic 

Sticking out of my back, 

You know, the ones that make the clicking sound 

When you can’t wind them any further - 

The only way to unwind me 

Is to let me march. For me 

That’s the only treatment that’s ever taken. 

You gotta let me march. 

Only now it’s 1:03 A.M. and still 

I march. 

And tomorrow’s alarm is already set 

With just enough time 

To rewind until it clicks. And then 

I’ll get back up and march again.