berated internally

as i sit here
ignoring the voice
of anxiety
as it tries to
talk me out of
going to the
drumming my fingers
on the coffeeless table
trying to convince
myself that it is
only forty five
measly minutes
sitting in the car
as the clothes spin
forty five minutes
i put off until
i am damn near
out of clothes
because the voice
can be persuading
arguing with myself
with the clothes loaded
in the backseat
wondering why
i have failed so hard
that i can never
scrape together
enough cash to buy
a new washing machine
and avoid this
internal conflict
that always wages
if i listen to it
which i do too often
it would be content
if i starved to death
among heaps of
dirty laundry
because it knows just
the right buttons
to paralyze me
it is when i get out
of the shower
and grab the last pair
of boxer briefs
that the voice screams
unable to believe
i waited this long
the failure that couldn’t
escape his own mind
now berated by it
as he dresses

yet still it whispers
as i drive
you could have waited
one more day

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