Like a weasel rooting for food,
so does the mind’s shadow go hunting for
- A reason to lose.
It lurks behind,
bides its time
Swift punch to the gut
and a piece of pound cake to make it all better.
How long will the unwelcome house guest stay this time? Hang on now, self-sabotage was invited.
It received a plea in a lacy invitation with little pink hearts
and a simple message:
“Things are going well.”
Come, help remedy the situation.
Come over and make things right
lest someone soars too high.
Billions of planes with burnt wings –
something must be done.
I want it to leave now, this cheeky chum that thrives off lethargy,
serving cake and getting me red-wine-drunk and demanding that I watch mindless chick flicks.
“Just one more lazy day, c’mon, treat yourself!”
…I think I should move house and keep my new address anonymous.