Poem: hangover

[tahariel]

It's been a year
                       and
I am still brittle with your poison.
                                          There is a piece of you inside me.
        Thinking of you makes me
nauseous with
  self-loathing
and
      sordid-feeling
  and
regret for the way I still
                      dance on your strings

Comments

[rubynye.livejournal.com]

Oh God. Yes, that. That.

[tahariel.livejournal.com]

Even now I still hate my old place of work so much that it makes me feel sick. They made my life such a misery. I have this elaborate fantasy where everyone but the orthoptists leave the hospital for some reason and then a meteorite falls from heaven and kills them all and destroys the hospital so I can drive past there again without wanting to hurt someone.

[rubynye.livejournal.com]

I hear you. I had a workplace like that; the day I drove past and saw they'd moved or closed and another business had their location, I downright cheered.

[tahariel.livejournal.com]

Sadly they rarely move whole hospitals. But I can dream! At least since my promotion in September I'm now earning as much or more than I was there, depending on commission, and they actually want me to be there. That's what I remind myself when I get maudlin about it.