Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow

it begins again.
I wake up.
I rush to get ready,
often skipping all
but the barest essentials.
My drive is forgotten
after I reach the next block.
Did I run a red light?
Was it green?
But I am here now.
By 6:30.
And the work.
Frantic, frenetic, nerves
all ajangle like liquid coffee
running through my unfortunate
veins to twitch and spasm, yet
I have had
Too much to eat, so swallow
a less than liquid lunch
of yogurt while continuing.
Five o’clock.
I see some people leave, but
there is no time. Too much
yet to be done.
Six o’clock.
The dedicated people remain,
like me, trying to get that
last bit in.
Seven o’clock.
I look up and am faced
with the reality that I
am the only one left.
Just two more tasks.
One more email.
And I go home to cook,
to clean, to try
to relax through the
heartburn and stress.
I should exercise, but
I am so tired.
And tomorrow
it begins again.


About E

Even as a child, I read voraciously. Writing has always been a natural outlet. Sometimes bordering on macabre or edgy, I was not always safe and even today I look at some of my writing and raise an eyebrow. Read me at your own risk. I am but a 30-something professional (don't ask a professional what, for I won't answer!) who spends nights as a dreamer and sometimes writer.
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