F.i.in.e Moods

- written in 2004 (when I started posting online), at a time when I worked at a call centre and when I was returning back to work after a few months on medical leave from the job - I wasn't too ready to go back but I had to... These words are my feelings and experiences about going back, plus there was also a failed relationship with one of my supervisors (not recommended!), which made my going back all the more awkward and uncomfortable... just some ramblings about it in not great rhymes, and rhythm, actually... very much the 'style' of my writing then... 

Startled from my sleep in a panic
My fears take a hold of me in a lick
It's the dreaded seizing morning again

Difficultly, my composure, I try to regain

It's time to move I convince myself

My cozy blanket I don't want to leave
The calm warmth too short, I believe
But I get out of bed nonetheless
'Cause I can't afford to be penniless

In the shower to be a more presentable being
I get ready for yet another day of "living"
This is only the start of my neverending anxiety
As the minutes'll roll today, it'll grow in intensity

I dress then moisturize my dry skin

Now driving in the early traffic, music blaring
Massive huddle of dulled minds still sleeping
My stress I try to stifle by wailing out my lungs
Just singing along with my fav playlist's songs

The autoroute's exit to work I'm nearing
More energetic and louder I carry on singing
Oh I really don't want to arrive at destination

Dreadful hours without using imagination

I reason with myself it's a temporary necessary evil

My hell grows as soon as I step foot in the parking lot
A co-worker notices and greets me, my stomach's in knots
Pleasantly I respond, while mind wishes we were worlds away
Nervously I step inside, psyching myself I'll have a nice day

Magnetic employee card in hand I punch in
A few more smiles, here and there, my shift begins
Headset on, logged in, I wait for the heart-stopping tone
From the first to the last, my body can be likened to a stone

I anxiously watch the agonizingly slow minutes go by

The first call: a confused client not making any damned sense
And the more I explain, it's hopeless, he's just simply dense
The second's a client in a hurry completely impatient
As is policy, profuse apologies I empathically present

After five minutes of this, I lose my interest sorely
And the usual scorching heat keeps rising inside of me
Miserable, I look at the time again for more disappointment
It's only been fifteen minutes, I'm nowhere near enjoyment

I melt in my chair and miserably fail to change my mood

A finger taps on my shoulder, my heart skips a beat painfully
Without ill-intentions, a neighboring co-worker invades my privacy
"How long have you been gone? Are you fairing better now?"
On the spot, cornered, I don't want to say but can't lie somehow

My mind racing, panic strikes, I hurriedly offer a vague answer
Insecurity soaring, I secretly wish to deal instead with a caller
Saved, the tone in my ear rings once more, my escape from this
A very short-lived relief, the new client is absolutely pissed!

Exasperated, exhausted, I just want to be home

Celebration! One hour has gone by finally
But my emotions again play tricks on me
One minute they are oblivious to his arrival
The next, the outcome becomes once more brutal

Roller coaster of unstable feelings intense
His coldness towards me doesn't make any sense
It comes and goes in my mind without obvious warning
The finality of our closeness still finds a way to sting

So I adopt a nonchalant attitude but comfort won't find me


sigh

Only three more hours to go...

- unpublished draft...

perspective:  substance abuse... while silently fallen, after years of being clean... tug-of-war between conscience and carrying on with the problematic behavior...

If I hang around long enough,

I might confess about what I

Don't want anyone to know.

So,

shhh...

Don't ask me anything else

For tonight, 'til the new sun

Comes in tomorrow.

Maybe then.  But for now,

Please, shhh...

Nope.  Can't say

Knowing makes

It any easier

To live down

These sore voids.

As we get lost

In the vast vacant,

Inner emptiness then

Joins in the fray,

To add its flavor.

Like more nothing

Is truly needed.

But I guess,

It's my sensitivity.  Still,

Doesn't dampen the hurt...

So, no, I really can't say

Knowing makes

It any easier 'cause

Being this alone

Is hard to not feel.

- for poetic pilgrim, affectueusement... c'est un fait qui me fait rire...

You're the only person

On this entire planet

I allow to call me

By the first three letters

Of my first name.

No one else has

Ever succeeded.

;)

Only 'cause obsession

Has a firm grip on

Your dangling ankles.  It's a

Tug-of-war pulling you over.

You also know,

Without a doubt,

That some day,

Your end will come.

And it will be

In this way,

'Cause resistance

Won't work forever.

- an abusive sibling who appears wasn't able to break the cycle... 

Oh perish the thought

that such 'indiscretions'

should be brought up!

How 'cruel' to let him know

how much of an ass he

truly happens to be,

and has always been.

Oh the sense he makes of it

is uniquely his very own,

where no one can follow him.

The need for deflections

is stronger than desires for truth?

He'll get insulted by his victim,

believe they're not right, in there.

Oh this craziness

is enough to cut your breath;

even your legs from under you.

His victim made the antagonist

in a situation all of his making.

It's astoundingly disappointing

reasoning that's most surreal!

- expressions québécoises...

Allons, revenons à nos moutons.

Grimper dans les rideaux

N'aidera rien pour personne ; 

S'enfarger sur les fleurs du tapis

Non plus.  Alors, vaut mieux 

Rester calme pour pouvoir

Nous sortir de ce trou. 

Là serait la clef, je crois.

« revenons à nos moutons » is "let's get back to our sheep" translated literally.  What it means is let's get back to our affairs or the matter at hand.

« grimper dans les rideaux » is "climb the curtains" which means something along the lines of "hitting the roof", getting angry and agitated.

« s'enfarger sur les fleurs du tapis » is "tripping over the flowers [pattern] on the carpet" which means spending too much time on irrelevant or nonexistent minutiae.

« sortir de ce trou » is "getting out of this hole" which means the English same: problem.

« serait la clef » is "would be the key" which means in this context an initial solution.

Teetering between

The neutral,

To the lowest of

Levels, as usual.

So tired.

Of me.

Move along;

Nothing here.

Day in, day out

Every tomorrow

Is the same.

Repeat:  on.

So alone.

'Cause of me.

Fear has a

Chokehold.

Knowing has no

Power to make

Any of it quit. It

Stays the master.

So tired.

Of this.

Endless circle

Needs stopping.

- ;)

If there is such a thing

As reincarnation, then

My wish would be to

Come back to this life

As a loved, pampered,

Cat like these two... 

You've got to admit,

They do "looks like bliss"

And "what problems?"

Really well, don't they?

It began a few months ago,

and gradually, it became

more and more prevailant.

Now its depth is resounding...

You might have noticed it too.

With isolation came quietness,

from those around us, and online.

Isolation reacted to with more

Isolation.  This one: self-isolation. 

And it's getting worse as these

months progress in such uncertain

times.  Everyone is clearly weary.

Maybe we should try to not

impose more isolation on ourselves,

and keep talking to one another?

Alone in our thoughts for too long,

well, you don't need me to tell you

it isn't good for anyone's morale,

let alone anyone's psyche.  This

quietness does no one any favors.

What do you think? 

You see and feel it too, right?

Feels like we could be doing

something to diminish this void 

from settling further...