The way to her heart is through the pill box

I am tried of her
With her constant excuses
Legs heavy with diffidence
And self-doubt like dirt under her nails

I am bored
of her ambling along unseeing
across the urban scape
Heading nowhere significant.

I’ve had enough of her
Whining about unhealthy sources of nutrition
Wishing for better roads to exercise
She’s distasteful, detestful sometimes.

She’s beyond counsel.
Eating garbage like the ocean cleaner
Netflix without crossfit equals
Waistlines without clothes.

The heart is fine; self-preserving.
Her mind is a silent scream for help.
She needs fixing; in more ways than one.

Shall I take her on a journey,
One she won’t return from?
Make her empty some pills down her chute
Or climb the monkey bar to precarious heights.

Shall I lead the way there, so she can be
Light and numb, happy and free?
But there is no me without her.
And I am self-preserving.

Leave a Reply