Carried Away

I rub my feet together and a dream escapes.
I wake married to self-control, perplexed.
Last night I lost control.
I bought the bigger bottle for efficiency.
I don't want to have to go back to that store.
I let myself wallow so long as I have company.
I question the sincerity of my struggle when I can't keep it to myself.
Look at the time, it's been cut down.
Look at me, i'm cutting myself down.
It's unsightly. It's blemish personified. It's what I've been trying
to end.
Universe presses send.
Silence & suffering the default planes.
Resist. Resist. Don't think of this.
Press ahead. Pull the switch. Dig. Don't think of this.
Turning to the usual things, the books, tears,
shaking down my fears. Unconcerned with what's creative.
Creating concern. Playing along with my vanity.
Making nausea. Quelling nausea. Making nausea nascent.
My oh my, look how much fun we're having
con el solo idioma. I'm holding back
a long-awaited poop. For when I'm alone,
estoy sin aliento. Waking up divorced
from yesterday's reality. Singing the anthem para mi, para mi.
I take back everything I said
so I can say it all again.
So obscene. Such a scene. Living, a mess.
What else can I quit? Tempted to try muteness,
though I'd get fired. I could quit trying to impress,
and listen closer to my own body. I could wear a dress,
but even then, who'd take me on a date? Gotta think less.
gotta write without redress. Gotta not think of this,
or I will lose, lose, lose it all, gotta not post this,
gotta not end this or else the questions come back
to burn what they could not finish.