he tapped the eraser
of the black hexagonal pencil
against the mug

he hated the tea
but felt resolute
that it must be seen through

it was cold

his mind wandered briefly
to a song of which he knew
roughly 61% of the lyrics
he felt this needed to be rectified
like most of the things he felt
it had to wait

muted rubber against ceramic
more rhythmic
now the song was stuck in his head
he tried to focus
but the words made less sense
the more he stared
and it was dull
too dull

and he had unconsciously begun
making shapes in the margins
it would be a problem
bet it felt right
and so much didn’t

he kept going
it was relief
the knots
that now comprised his back

he kept going


About Moly

Average, boring, self-involved human. Twitter: @CultOfCocktails Facebook:
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