Monday’s Martyr

Girl drinking coffee

Monday’s Martyr

Morning;

I rise, refusing to shine,
Knowing this coffee’s not
Half as bitter as my mood
Is bound to be.

That the week that greets me
Is not so much smiling
As it is baring its yellow teeth.

That what waits for me will take
every ounce of gusto and
stability that I can afford
to leak past puffy eyes.

That I toss myself onto hostile
roads before I find myself
behind enemy lines and
before the unforgiving tides
of cannibalistic opportunity.

That those dog-eat-dog bastards
will be my undoing should I
make one little misstep before
friends who aren’t friendly.

That I’m far too old for this
Type of grind but that I’m
Far too young to flee from
these things that I seek.

That, despite all my accounting,
I will still have this hangover
I’ll desperately try to beat.

But, above all, that I seem
to have underestimated just
how damned bad this coffee
could really be.

Disgusting;

I think I’ll have to
take my Monday
with a heavy dashing
of cream.

____________________________________________________________

Happy Monday, everyone!  Looking forwards to getting started with some new poems this week, and my first bit of a short story posted as well. I’ve got Hook inspired prose coming, and a story that’s got both drinking and the devil in it. This week should be a whole lot of fun, so be sure to keep an eye out here!

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2 responses

  1. Lol. Loved this!!!

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