PRIVATE THOUGHTS
Thank goodness they're locked up in there;
imagine the fuss should they be let out.
imagine the fuss should they be let out.
I am sure we all have them: those private
thoughts of the one next to us, upholding
what is to him, or her, an undeniable truth.
While we may mildly disagree, joke about it,
should it be of a significant subject that we
cannot help but feel decidedly contrary to,
there will always be a chasm we cannot leap:
an abyss of acrimony we will always keep
well within our private thoughts.
thoughts of the one next to us, upholding
what is to him, or her, an undeniable truth.
While we may mildly disagree, joke about it,
should it be of a significant subject that we
cannot help but feel decidedly contrary to,
there will always be a chasm we cannot leap:
an abyss of acrimony we will always keep
well within our private thoughts.
A FRIEND
Were I to have one, a friend, that is, he would have to be better than me.
That's easy, you say, for I can hear you thinking, I sound rather snobbish.
Yes, it is true, my opinion of myself is, specifically, of a superlative one.
I find myself comfortable, entertaining, and capable of being up-to-date.
I admit to having vices, even to the point of admitting to all of the seven.
That said, I believe honesty is the essence of a enabling true conscience.
You call me fat. Yes, just a few pounds. You say I am self-centered. A bit.
See. I accept the reality of being what I am. Can a friend stand such heat.
Perhaps, but I think not. If he could, maybe he would be better than me.
Then I would have a friend.
That's easy, you say, for I can hear you thinking, I sound rather snobbish.
Yes, it is true, my opinion of myself is, specifically, of a superlative one.
I find myself comfortable, entertaining, and capable of being up-to-date.
I admit to having vices, even to the point of admitting to all of the seven.
That said, I believe honesty is the essence of a enabling true conscience.
You call me fat. Yes, just a few pounds. You say I am self-centered. A bit.
See. I accept the reality of being what I am. Can a friend stand such heat.
Perhaps, but I think not. If he could, maybe he would be better than me.
Then I would have a friend.
THE WRITTEN APOLOGY:
I now take this time to extend an apology for calling you a loser
yesterday. After an agonizing, sleepless night, I have realized my
sudden anger came not from what you did, but failure on my part to
realize what you have been through lately. I am deeply sorry for what I
said and I hope you will forgive me. Conceivably, when time has passed
for you to reconsider my remorse and my inexplicable action, you will
write or call, and we can get together again as friends.
THE UNWRITTEN ACTUALITY:
This drivel that I am resigned to write is not only humiliating,
but pure fiction. You are a crass and annoying person who I have never
liked or respected and I find you a pathetic SOB. Because you are my
superior at the job site does not make you my superior de facto. You
can bitch about being pressured by the executives, but truth be known,
you are a fuck up, and they are beginning to realize it. It's just a
matter of time and I'll have your job. Keep on trucking, bubblehead.
No comments:
Post a Comment