At his desk, he confessed it was all such a mess

Stressed, hands over ears, his hair caressed

His fears were less than accurate

As the sound is only half of it

Lights off, sipping on a bottle of whiskey

As his PC screen flickers ever so elegantly

Rebooting, so soothing music is out of the question

As each confession is so vocal and its sheer precision

To describe each nasty, horrid detail

His thoughts are forced to fail

As the words reverb on his skull

Echo through his soul’s hull

He can sense the tense sensation of frustration this brings

As the melody, it sings is devastation on Satan wings

He hopes the alcohol will drown his memory

Of the agony depicted so vividly

This is all he can take, so he no longer sips but drinks in gulps

The walls shake, and his sanity rips as if struck by lightning bolts

His legs move side to side as if he sits in stride

Anxious to move, leave all work, set it aside

His report can wait, unable to work in this state

Put it off, planned to work till late

Get it done in one night

But this fright, oh this horrid fright

Unable to move, unwilling to stay

Something to lose a price to pay

A choice to make a decision to take

His future at stake

No one to call at this time

Departure only the only thing on his mind

And now the whispers turn to a loud shout

His reply is: “FUCK IT I’m out”

He bangs the front door as he escapes his gloom

How the hell could he focus, with his mom having sex in the next room

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