wednesday

Wednesday, day of the “I thought it was Friday,”

hulking over the rest of the week with its prideful boasting

and its incessant prompting,

“you’re not enough, you’re not enough, you’re not enough”

Wednesday knows just how to warm up the bed

so that you won’t make your train,

and especially takes time in the early morning to properly un-tidy your room.

Wednesday leads in with a “you can do it!”
and promptly exits with a “my work is done,” and a bow

after completely screwing you over.

Wednesday’s empty promises to tackle new projects

is battered down by the forgotten ghosts of Tuesday’s procrastination,

choking every hope you have of reaching some obtainable goal.

Wednesday brings stress in a basket and anxiety in a bottle to go with it,

the perfect combination to get you drunk on your own self-pity

and ruddy with mixed emotions.

He walks into the room with a smile, loud and deceptive,

setting himself down next to your desk, never to leave.

Wednesday swears in your ear and pinches your arm enough to leave a bruise,

reminding you of the money you’ve spent and the gifts you’ve yet to buy.

Just when you’ve had enough and you’re ready to holler every insult you can muster,

Wednesday goes ahead and hollers them for you,

screaming profanity and basking in his own filth,

twisting everyone’s words, tainting relationships, building barriers,

texting you insults and filling your day with disappointing realities.

Wednesday, champion of the week, top of the hump,

pushes you downhill towards Thursday with such force that your

ribs break, one by one, until you can’t breathe and you resign yourself

to the prodding and feel your cheeks wet with tears,

crying at your desk,

hating Wednesday.