gnomon
Well-Known Member
You awake in the morning without a headache but the body aches.....
And the first thought is what did I say last night?
Crawling out of bed you enter the shower
Take a bar of soap
Wrap it in a washcloth and
Proceed to scrub yourself as hard as you can.....
After that you wash yourself in a scented soap
Get out of the shower
Dry off
And apply a decent cologne....
Then comes the drive to work...
"What did I say to her last night?
Did I log on to Facebook and post something?
What exactly did I say on the forum I know I was on last night?"
It dwells upon your mind.
What did I say!
The anxiety sets in and you get the first phone call from your girlfriend.
It goes great.
Anxiety lessens immensely. But it's only been three hours.
You walk into the bathroom.
Shaking.
Wash your arms, your face and use the towels to dry yourself off to rub down your neck and chest.
You smell alright. Even knowing you must revisit this process again.
You cannot read any fine print
All you see is a blur
But you have to deal.
And there is still the niggling anxiety of what did you post on the forum last night?
Will you be lambasted or did you actually post nothing of consequence?
And why should it matter in any sense.
The lunch half hour comes and you are feeling better....
Attempt to eat something.
Impossible. At this point your are at the midpoint of rejection and acceptance of denial.
In the morning was never again but at this point maybe......again.
One last time. After a few hours of regret becomes
A few hours of planning.
You do not understand what you do alone....
Coping.
But every morning seems so painfully clear in the literal sense.
But as each day drags on you only know one way
To find a cease to that day....
And all things are cyclical.
So there you are. Not knowing what you did the day before.....
But once again on a forum attempting the same old concept
Without a care and dreading what the dawn may bring.
That bottle never cared.......
And here the **** I am.
On a forum.
Regretting what I might have said before
And not actually caring at this very moment.
And the the moment hits......
It never actually mattered in the first place.
But there's the bottle.
And it punches you in the gut.
Because it was her that mattered all along.
Never this. This useless selfishness.
This egotistic need to project upon phantoms.
It was always her.
Yet here I was.......
Posting a stupid poem on a forum.
Time to turn all the power off as the bugs fly towards the only light in this
Forsaken room.
Time now...she is waiting.
I am waiting.
Time now......
Turn off.
Goodbye.
What a garbage poem.
And the first thought is what did I say last night?
Crawling out of bed you enter the shower
Take a bar of soap
Wrap it in a washcloth and
Proceed to scrub yourself as hard as you can.....
After that you wash yourself in a scented soap
Get out of the shower
Dry off
And apply a decent cologne....
Then comes the drive to work...
"What did I say to her last night?
Did I log on to Facebook and post something?
What exactly did I say on the forum I know I was on last night?"
It dwells upon your mind.
What did I say!
The anxiety sets in and you get the first phone call from your girlfriend.
It goes great.
Anxiety lessens immensely. But it's only been three hours.
You walk into the bathroom.
Shaking.
Wash your arms, your face and use the towels to dry yourself off to rub down your neck and chest.
You smell alright. Even knowing you must revisit this process again.
You cannot read any fine print
All you see is a blur
But you have to deal.
And there is still the niggling anxiety of what did you post on the forum last night?
Will you be lambasted or did you actually post nothing of consequence?
And why should it matter in any sense.
The lunch half hour comes and you are feeling better....
Attempt to eat something.
Impossible. At this point your are at the midpoint of rejection and acceptance of denial.
In the morning was never again but at this point maybe......again.
One last time. After a few hours of regret becomes
A few hours of planning.
You do not understand what you do alone....
Coping.
But every morning seems so painfully clear in the literal sense.
But as each day drags on you only know one way
To find a cease to that day....
And all things are cyclical.
So there you are. Not knowing what you did the day before.....
But once again on a forum attempting the same old concept
Without a care and dreading what the dawn may bring.
That bottle never cared.......
And here the **** I am.
On a forum.
Regretting what I might have said before
And not actually caring at this very moment.
And the the moment hits......
It never actually mattered in the first place.
But there's the bottle.
And it punches you in the gut.
Because it was her that mattered all along.
Never this. This useless selfishness.
This egotistic need to project upon phantoms.
It was always her.
Yet here I was.......
Posting a stupid poem on a forum.
Time to turn all the power off as the bugs fly towards the only light in this
Forsaken room.
Time now...she is waiting.
I am waiting.
Time now......
Turn off.
Goodbye.
What a garbage poem.
