Without Him.

My left knee still hurts.
My lower-back is still sore.
The hot shower didn't help. Again.
My joints still ache.

I don't want to call him.
I am not interested in patience.
I don't care about the small talk.
My brain is full and unwilling.

My shins are rough and jagged and splinted.
My arches are falling.
The balls of my feet sting.
That sting in my left shoulder is still there.

No, you can't have five-hundred of my dollars.
Why would I want to help you?
Who are you to ask that of me?
I am in this for me.

This is me without Him.