work in progress

I've always been a light sleeper. My mind buzzing with the first ray of light. My mental alertness fighting my physical fatigue. I get up to dispose of last nights bender. While in the bathroom, I gaze into what I am. The tired eyes and trembling body...
I know sit on that same rug, in that same place, with the same pen, and the same drink. What's different is my state of mind. After she tore my limbs off, systematically, I can do nothing but sit in this spot and think of all my wrong-doings. Why did I have to appear to be so parasitic? Why must I BE so parasitic? She doesn't need me, but I sucked the life out of her. Not even satisfied until there was nothing left to indulge on. Unanswered phone calls... An apparent disappearance off the face of my perceived world. These were my cues that I no longer had this one to hold at night.
This isn't the first time. I've got quite the habit. I ash my cigarette and stir my thoughts for an unturned feeling. Nothing. Same old loneliness, same old anxiety. These women, girls really... These girls that I have latched onto, dug my ugly hands into... they always have a way of inadvertently latching onto my mind. My thoughts and by brain. Every electronic pulse and neuron seem to be melded with a dash of testosterone. Every brain wave pattern, en route to a females face. I have become obsessive.
Awareness... a key to conquer my problems. So you'd think. Yes, I'm aware, yet fall into the propensity of a vicious cycle. I pour another drink. A toxic relationship... A former lover once diagnosed ours as such. I'm drawn to these self-destructive tendencies.
My weight has dropped recently. My laundry has begin to pile and the recycle bin is overflowing with spent forties and liquor bottles. Its mid summer, and the heat fills this wretched apartment. I light another cigarette. I smoke it in its entirety without taking a single breath of fresh air between drags. I guess I feel better now. My drink has depleted itself. I brew a cup of coffee. After all its 7:30 am.


I'll take a walk. My eastward facing door slowly opens. The early morning sun blinds me. I make towards the intersection. Stumbling in a more than graceful manner, I avoid the other foot traffic. I obtain a weekly and another cup of coffee at the Tedeschi. I find that rarely these contain enjoyable stories, but I still have hope.
The T pulls up as I attempt to cross the street. No other plans so I take the ride. I pay the fare... the train is fairly empty, after all its Sunday. It seems the whole city is still in bed, asleep with hangovers, probably. I sit in a single seat to avoid having an unwanted travel companion and sigh in physical exhaustion. A pretty girl in sunglasses is hunched over in her seat across from mine. Her head rests upon her open palm.... elbow resting upon the seat in front of her. Her unaffected expression is not the most flattering but her lightweight white dress compensate for it. I wonder if beyond her trendy accessories, those eyes are checking me out.
I look at myself... I'm wearing slim jeans, black in color. My belt is pulled through to the last notch. A small white Hanes tee, my Dr. Martens, and a blue army-style cap. My beard is getting quite full but I keep it neat. My hair quite long but I get it trimmed twice a month. Well... long for me, I think. I step off the train and find myself in the common.
With noontime, my thoughts stray down different paths. This is somewhat of a relief for me. I mean after all, I did fuck her the first night I met her. Why must all relationships be something special. I mean, well, we did have some really fun afternoons together. We rode bikes.... we rode bikes equipped with vodka nippers, can of spray paint, and a relentless sexual attraction. These were fun times. Why can't it be JUST that. I light another cigarette. I've calmed myself since morning.
Newspaper completed, and a vat of useless knowledge... I proceed to head back towards my apartment, only by foot this time. As I pass by another Tedeschi, I pick up a pack of reds and a bottle of water. Ten bucks. What a waste of money I think to myself as I light the first one.