The gap grows larger

In all places,
empty spots in my mind,
the gap between my teeth,
the waistband of my pants,
forgetting to eat, forgetting to move,
wasting away.

The gap grows in time:
between when I started, and when I will finish,
from when I was in kindergarten,
to now.

The gap grows and I watch it pass and I want to be in its passing,
but instead I am here.