Dead Weight ~ OpenLinkNight
The voice, mechanical, going through the motions
at seven o'clock
on a cold Tuesday morning
in January.
There is no life there.
There is no hope.
No hint that perhaps
the soul that occupies the form
is awake.
She feels alone in her struggle.
Her resentment pours from her
washing over me in waves
as I approach the window.
Among the aromas of coffee
and toasted bagels, you can
taste the hate. As though she
is the only one ever to suffer
to struggle through this journey.
There is no please, there is no good morning
There is only her stare, glaring, cold
Her voice would be a hiss if she found it.
Perhaps she knows this
so she chooses to remain quiet
But as you drive away
the damage is done.
Drowned in the misery of another
like so much dead weight
like you don't have enough of your own misery
to lay to waste the body she inhabits...
were you to unleash it.
It's OpenLinkNight and we're Poetry in Motion! Joe Hesch is behind the bar, ready to pour your poison, and we are ready and waiting to receive your words. Bring them to dVerse and get them heard. Pub opens 3pmEST and we're going all night long!
P.S. Sending all this love to the wonderful ladies at my favorite coffee shop. I offered them a course in smiling, but they've yet to take me up on it. ;)
at seven o'clock
on a cold Tuesday morning
in January.
There is no life there.
There is no hope.
No hint that perhaps
the soul that occupies the form
is awake.
She feels alone in her struggle.
Her resentment pours from her
washing over me in waves
as I approach the window.
Among the aromas of coffee
and toasted bagels, you can
taste the hate. As though she
is the only one ever to suffer
to struggle through this journey.
There is no please, there is no good morning
There is only her stare, glaring, cold
Her voice would be a hiss if she found it.
Perhaps she knows this
so she chooses to remain quiet
But as you drive away
the damage is done.
Drowned in the misery of another
like so much dead weight
like you don't have enough of your own misery
to lay to waste the body she inhabits...
were you to unleash it.
It's OpenLinkNight and we're Poetry in Motion! Joe Hesch is behind the bar, ready to pour your poison, and we are ready and waiting to receive your words. Bring them to dVerse and get them heard. Pub opens 3pmEST and we're going all night long!
P.S. Sending all this love to the wonderful ladies at my favorite coffee shop. I offered them a course in smiling, but they've yet to take me up on it. ;)
Comments
Her resentment pours from her"
There are several types of people this reminds me of: the "priveledged" teen with 'no clue,' has yet to work a full 40 hour week, and still thinks things should be just handed to her; the single parent with young children, worrying about day care, exhausted from working two jobs; the victim of the economy, worked decades for same company, now working for less than half of former income plus a few measly tips. Finally, that person who is just plain miserable all the time and likes to pass the attitude along. Sadly, all too common, there's plenty of those--this is the one I am reminded of the most in your write. An interesting observation, lots of food for thought!
my first instinct is to pity her, trapped in misery, all through this i felt the cold, her cold heart. here's hoping that someday, she melts.
great poem.
@AudreyHowitt
- nice capture tash -
somehow on the edge of tragedy
we find a deeeper level to occupy
HaHa
Iggyn8us
Great piece. True too!
Lol, you put that line in the right place it re-energizes your senses to reread. great work
taste the hate.
I see people like this all the time. They mystify me. I want to know whats eating them up- something horrendous- or is it something trivial.
Then again- ive been in jobs that i've hated- all you do is daydream of a better place- simple as that
this was really thought provoking and well observed
"Her voice would be a hiss if she found it.
Perhaps she knows this
so she chooses to remain quiet"
http://rosemarymint.wordpress.com/2012/01/31/the-studio/