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All work and no play

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So, while I'm doing the challenge, there's no reason I can't do unrelated stuff, so here goes. Bits of this have been nagging at me far too long. For those thinking there's some strange language in here, it's because apparently my control of the English language still isn't perfect at 6 am, while falling asleep in between writing :P



She exists there, perched on my couch

And like I've been warned, her moods swing

One minute smiling, cuddling the pup

The other just, there. Cursing everything

Lamenting the existence of herself, and all the world

Around her, inside her, causing hurt and fatigue

But everything, always, inside.


And I look inside, and see myself. Reflected

Upon slights glaring at me, saying "hey mate

This is you, you're this. Your natural state of

Frag the world, and everything, everyone in it

Not as if I need you, you don't offer me anything

Worth the investment of being thankful over

Since really, it's all fleeting anyway, as I am

I might as well fleet on.


Sail my little boat across the oceans

Of ennui and annoyance as I sing

My eternal song of "I can do this

Better. With more investment.

I can take more from this. But then I do

Not care about anything I could

And anything I'd want to take keeps on

Dissapearing behind this or the next wave

Forever just out of grasp, as I fumble

For the rigging that keeps all this together"


And I look outside, and see you again

Still perched like a queen of distant

Disillusion hopes and dreams

And the same thoughts hit me like waves

Ebbing and flowing with the unsteady beat

Of an exhausted man on his last breaths

Why do I do this?

What drives me to invest so much of that

Of which I have so little; time, energy, cheer

Into one I barely know, but share my bed with

Into one who gives so little back, exempting

Those rare moments of synchronised upswing

When all I get is a smile, but it fills me with hope


Like seeing the mast of your floundering

Cardboard boat rise above a crest, triumphant

Saying for the moment, we can take this

And I can think of but one answer:

For love.


Yet I lie. How misplaced is that answer, seriously?

It's not. Yet, it's so wrong. The question is

Not, nor has ever been one of for what. Rather

For love of whom, and why? What do I chase, really

And I answer all anyone ever can: I listen to the stories

I tell myself, chasing pipe dreams of things, people

That have long dissappeared behind waves, behind me


Because every time, I still see her, in you, like I did

See myself in her, and you in me, and all our boats

Tossed into one wave-valley by a stream of thought

And every time I think I've something to make up

To the both of you, and I won't ever to her

And you? You just keep racking up the guilt

Telling me whatever I do, it's not sufficient

That no matter how hard I paddle, the next wave

Will just carry you off again, out of reach


And I look behind me, and see the world

Outside my little bathtub of aggravations

Where all this time, the tap's been running

Water thundering down, the wavemaker

Yet I haven't had the chance to pull the plug

And I think to this world, forget about it

I've been doing the same


Hey world?

I'm sorry.

One day, a wave will carry me up within reach

And I'll turn off the tap that created it

Let my little tub of worries come to rest

And say "Hey world,

Thanks for paddling after me."


But for now, I'll paddle after you

Hoping one day, you'll turn off your tap

That you may rest, recover, and tell me

The same. Why?


For love of howling at the Moon.

As the most distant of friends

Can feel closest at times.

Edited by Mardrax

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