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Monday.

Nine thousand degrees,

misanthrope lunch break, hiding in a greenhouse car,

a Venusian heat island. Life a mess, marked by clutter:

drink containers, paper & plastic bags,

used brake fluid, residue of too many weekends,

detached & running away from myself

chasing an imaginary rabbit lure

with meat surprise inside.

Temporary distractions:

because I can

because I shouldn’t

because I must.

The Nietzschean disarray

refuses to be what it isn't:

byproducts of chasing (emotionally unavailable) men (who won’t chase me),

rolling arbitrarily as a marble

from one moment of satisfaction

to the next.

OR—it’s evidence that I basically live in my car

avoiding stability.

I’m just

doing

what I’ve

always

done.

Written 05 Aug 2013