so long, January

don't flatter yourself, January.

you promise a new year,

new beginnings

but it's more of the same old shit.

turmoil in the static.

you're not fulfilling my needs

and you know how i thrive on

immediate satisfaction.

so go fuck yourself, January,

or else find me a way to deal with

the sudden burst of nothingness you've handed me.

for you found me at a difficult time,

but for once it's not the fault of

a man or

a friend-in-passing or

some other convenient betrayal.

it's only me,

my fault,

all my doing

but it's been going on like this

since September,

so you can see how i was anticipating you

to somehow rescue me from this

ready-to-expire horror story

i'm creating.

i'm sad to say

you couldn't offer me anything more

than high hopes abandoned on window sills

by one who was too afraid to jump

for keeps.

the January thrill of snow and speed

were lures into a game called life

that i'm not sure i'm ready to be a part of yet,

so forgive me if i'm not

ecstatic

about my current situation.

for we both know i've never been the type

to be tied down

to anything,

least of all

what's expected of me.

my alter ago,

the side of me no one sees,

is way ahead of its time

with things you could never provide for me,

January.

you toyed with me and now

i'm over it

and i'm over you

and the thirty-one days of

shit

you offered,

so you'll again forgive me

for not mincing my words.

i'll move on to the next

who promises some kind of salute to love

and perhaps i'll find something

whole

or something that will make me feel

whole.

so long, January,

you mother fucker.

next year

you'd better bring it.

02.2010