Onset from Generalities by Dewey Decimal

My psyche bruises like a peach.
I can hardly believe how disappointing knowing you turned out to be.

The sun dipped behind your frown.
You started walking away before I’d turned around.
You left me there at the courthouse.
I said to myself, “I’ll see you around.”
I stood and stared at the ground,
wishing I could sink in deep and drown.
I tried to formulate a plan.
It came out as if I’d drawn it with my left hand.

So, I went away—does that mean you don’t love me, or think of me that way?
If I had stayed, would you take me for granted every day?

I wake up, but don’t know the day.
I open another bottle of headache Rosé.
I walk onto my porch and sit.
I smoke a cig, and eat a tube of Ritz.
I’m tired of feeling like shit.
I want to move on with my life, but can’t manage it.
The prairie is covered in fog.
It will be 5 months until it burns off.

Yeah, I went away—I guess that means you don’t love me, or think of me that way.
If I had stayed, you’d take me for granted every goddamn day.

But, I can’t stop thinking about picking the colors of the walls of our house with you,
or what I’d do to surprise you for our fifth anniversary. I hope you like it.
I can’t stop missing you when I’m lying sleepless starring at the ceiling fan.
I’m longing for the union of the back of my neck and your small hand again.
I’m letting the dog out after work, apologizing when I am a jerk,
protecting you from all of the world’s hurt because you’re just far too...

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