home early

to the emptiness of seven silent messages on the machine
mess around with a file of words i've been working on
something like a poorly formed letter filled with declaratives i never mean to send
and i feel full of sharpness
elbows
collarbones
vocal tones
the epitome of this razors edge
a restlessness that i can't seem to manage with any amount of black symbols on white screens
delete all the sentiments in spite of myself and the time and investment it took to construct the thoughts therein
who needs more of all that this is
anyway
i call the house three times
exactly
consecutively
into the answering machine
i leave no messages
grateful for the reprieve
and for the things i could have said
but won't
instead i count calories
and plan workout schedules
anxious to smash these newly developed
pounds
into oblivion