An Average Ailment

I shield my ears from echoes

I guard my good with guilt

I borrow from the bottom

of this foundation I've built

I worry like I'm wanted

I wander like the hand

Of someone understanding

Who still doesn't understand

I go mad over meaning

Apply it to the plot

Gutted over problems

That I probably haven't got

I count my cosmic curses

I carry them around

Excited by excuses

Formed and informally found