I'm eating my own objections and
it tastes like sitting for hours
on a cold bathroom floor
staring listlessly at my dirty hands.
Choking down elaborate excuses
and it feels like a procrasintator's nightmare
just wanting to bang my head
against the wall a few times
but damnit, I keep missing...
Swallowing my trembling pride
and it smells like my thoughts boiled over
and cooked all my feelings in the process
of their memorable/forgettable trip
to just beyond my reach in my mind.
Gnawing on this crippling indescision
and washing it down with my insecurities
looks like another perfect portrait
specifically made to cover up the peeling paint
on the walls of the gallery of my follies.
The groaning table swings around again and
I swear that I'll make this the very last time
I partake of a single morsel from it
I've had more than enough heartburn to keep me warm...