Proper reason to pity myself

One more day

wasted in the display

of how time managed

to look good

while running away

from me and from

everyone else

living in the same delusion

as me

I crank up the AC

I crank up the heat

but I don’t feel different

I don’t feel the need to rip

away at my flesh

to gnaw my bones

and turn myself into

a fuming Minotaur

ready to gore the world

on his man-horns

Is it the cycle of distress

and desire blending

into my consciousness?

I call M up, to ask her

for the details of

my pitiful self

She turns down the request

and shoves the receiver

down my throat

from the other end

now it rings

inside my bowels

and I feel like

I have a proper reason

to pity myself.

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