My Disaster

My senses swim in a corroded, numb ooze. My sanity hangs precariously by a frayed thread as I speak in tired platitudes to myself. I am distracted and stop paying attention to my inner ramblings. After all I've heard these tired excuses from myself before. I survey the damage like a governor flying over a disaster area. The difference is I created the disaster. I always create the disaster. Laid back in my recliner of self loathing, I close my eyes and think of better days.