Beer is a Blessing (February 4, 2010)

My freedom from boredom
The cold and hops-filled libation flows into my gullet
Soaking into my stomach like a much needed ran in an arid wasteland
Counter-intuitive to my health, but I care not
We eventually expire like curdled, rotten milk
Mortality is a blessing, not a curse
Indulgence in what hurts us seems all too natural
Are you escaping reality and responsibility?
Recurring themes, destined to repeat
Passed on through genetic lineage
Will you break the cycle?
Doubtful
Oh good, the bartender notices I need another

 

 

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The Wage (February 15, 2010)

A transaction between you and me.
For the greater good, AKA the company.
Do I seek out this routine?
Wake up. Move about. Shit, shower, and shave.
Clock in, lunchbox tin, make sure to behave.
A piece of my soul withers each day.
Conferred with the masses in line. Soup today I’m told.
Viewed provisions under glass casings, embedded with mold.
Not surprised the soup is cold.
Retreat to white walls and mindless chatter.
I earn a paycheck, nothing else matters.
My mind has scattered.

You call THIS a sandwich?! (February 16, 2010)

A two-tone colored salad precedes my disappointment.
Lacking the crispness and variety that I desire.
I consume the vegetable mishap to quell my hunger.
My stomach yet screams like a church choir.
I await the Philly steak.
Engaging in mindless dialogue with a former lover and her mother.
The mother accompanies the daughter in a car shopping endeavor.
Our waitress enters and I glance at rubberized disgrace.
Meager, unsatisfying, and draws great ire to my stomach.
Like a child that receives a Happy Meal without a toy.
Ill-prepared, greasy, unfit for human consumption.
Check please.

I Have Your DNA (February 18, 2010)

What a quaint thought.
To be twelve years of age and wish you dead.
Praying to a God that never answers.
I self-medicate to free my thoughts of you.
Subdued thoughts. Momentarily dulled.
Memories of unhappiness in your eyes.
Was this a learned trait from your father?
Two generations removed from a womanizing alcoholic.
How deep was your hatred?
More than I detest you?
I pledge to my future wife that I will break the cycle.
To be kind and understanding. Firm and fair.
To be a provider and a father.
But I am you, and harbor great darkness.
I’m afraid because I can’t outrun myself.