The Old Routine

I used to

rise up early

greeting the

morning sun,

make the bed,

go shower,

get dressed,

have breakfast,

be all primed

and ready

for some fun.

Then you

came along.

We would

stay up late

drinking the

nights away,

fuck in bed,

in the shower,

stay undressed,

miss breakfast,

totally spent

and so not ready

for the day.

Then you

moved in.

You would

stay up late

drinking the

bottles dry.

I’d go to bed,

not shower,

stay dressed,

breakfast alone.

While you slept

all day,

I would cry.

Then things

got real old.

I became a

prisoner,

watching life

from my cell.

Why make the bed?

Why shower?

Why get dressed?

Why eat?

I had died and

gone to hell.

Then I kicked

you out.

I began rising

early again,

breathing deeply,

feeling free,

making the bed,

singing in the shower,

dressing brightly,

breakfasting out -

so over what

I had let you

do to me.