the guilt
of these weeks
slacking leaks
out of my eyes
and ears and
fingers

the sludge
pools before
me
and as it
builds higher
and thicker
I feel my strength
returning,
my fortitude
relaxing,
my will
bending and
cracking with its
new found
freedom

the black goo
lies in a heap on
my floor
as
I go grab
a shovel and
toss it out
the
door

for now,
that poison
is gone from
me

but every
relaxing Friday,
when I let
this
poison from
myself
I notice my
features more
and more
in the viscous
creature
that leaks out
of me,
each time
I see more of
that tar in my
very own
face

how soon will the roles reverse?