I am an insect pinned to the cork board of my bed.
My eyes barely flicker as the entire house vibrates from the
Motorcycle dealership across the street apparently having a sale.
The warm Saturday morning gives my neighbor the chance to be a
Rock star again and he beats furiously on his drum set while some
Mysterious friend plays along on a distorted bass guitar.
This is how the weekend will begin. Etherized on my bed,
Hungover, and way too enthusiastic about being home alone.
This is the worst part. The last ten pounds.
They cling to my waist for their putrid lives and
No number of skipped meals loosens their grip of me.
I go jogging twice a week. Push ups every morning.
I eat so little, I get dizzy. I'm scared to drive.
When I eat I feel so guilty. I'm just making it worse.
Yesterday, I had an apple and a tomato sandwich.
Today I'll leave off the mustard.
They cling to my waist for their putrid lives and
No number of skipped meals loosens their grip of me.
I go jogging twice a week. Push ups every morning.
I eat so little, I get dizzy. I'm scared to drive.
When I eat I feel so guilty. I'm just making it worse.
Yesterday, I had an apple and a tomato sandwich.
Today I'll leave off the mustard.
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