It's good, but it could be great! Come back and work on it once you're pissed.
So good to see you back, sir! I may have to start frequenting T-dubs again sooner than I thought.



Today,
I'm pondering seven ways
To say that I am all alone

Monday
Calls me on the phone
Her voice is just a dial tone
I can't escape her vile drone
Mm hmm, mm hmm, mm hmm?

Tuesday
Stalls out on my street
He wonders how I'm still asleep
How many beeps before he creeps
Away, away, away?

Wednesday
Finds me on the bus
Where people stare and people cuss
I would, but I'm too tired to fuss
With you, or you, or you

Thursday
Sits with me at lunch
Nothing to say, hum drum and hunched
He hangs on my self-conscious crunch
So long, so long, so long

Friday
Is a thing of wonder
Fast and fierce like waves of thunder
He always splits my heart asunder
In time, in time, in time

Saturday
Is soft, like rain
She helps me wallow in my pain
She washes all my sinful stains
With tears, and tears, and tears

But, Sunday
Sunday cannot rest
She kicks inside my hollowed breast
She writhes as though she were possessed
With nothing, nothing, nothing


P.S. I wrote this a couple weeks ago. I just thought it was weird we both rhymed bus with fuss. I've been posting at a "proper" poetry site, but I'm getting tired of sifting through all the poems about peoples' pets to find the good stuff.

"The darkest of these objects is fecal excrement, which Sade advocates that we consume with relish, (no pun intended.)" - Douglas B. Lynott