I stare at the back
Of my gossamer eyelids
As sleep eludes me
The ceiling fan spins
Above my prostrate body
As I face the dawn
The taste of last night’s
Bourbon still sticks to my tongue
Colgate, please help me
Coffee and silence
The highlight of a morning
Soon to go to hell
Within my inbox
Is a message from a fool
You are why I drink
I start to reply
And am assailed with a sense
Of life’s cold façade
I hop on a call
To talk corporate folly
With a coworker
When I look at him,
I’m reminded of the day
I lost faith in God
I try to impose
Calm and order to my life
Within a spreadsheet
My stomach grumbles
For the nutrients it needs
Which I won’t provide
Pretzels should suffice
Today, as they will the next
Salt is a food group
Another meeting
Awaits me with the buffoon
Whose wife must be blind
He is the Devil’s
Scourge for the sins of mankind
Through him, we are damned
His contributions
Are as weak and impotent
As his genitals
Some take drugs for fun
I take them to forget him
Why can’t I forget
After work I walk
Fast, to outpace my demons
Never fast enough
On my porch I pour
A glass of sweet alcohol
Just to feel something
Existential Dread
Of a day clumsily lived
Purged by ethanol
The pretzels at noon
Were far more than I deserved
Thus I sleep hungry
I stare at the back
Of my gossamer eyelids
As sleep eludes me
The Existential Wannabe 