Coronary Indigestion

I wait for the indigestion to wane and waste away but it only mounts. I can feel the muffin curdling in my system. The acid of my bitter feelings drenches me in masochistic nostalgia. My eyes are dry, I feel pathetic because I can't cry. Subconsciously I believe I refuse to. How can it be subconscious when I 'believe' that's what I feel? My body is listless but I don't desire sleep. I seek a sanctuary that I won't find in a rem-cycle. I know I've found love, because I'm bitten by it. It isn't venom so much as a sedative. I won't cry now. My stubbornness prohibits it. But I know I'll cry later. My hand will reach for the phone and my fingers will itch to touch the appropriate buttons, but I'll fall short.

Fuck.

I ache for the time that will be wasted in pining. I ache for it to be done and over with, but I'm only feeling the premonition before the storm. I know an ancient foreboding that lovers worldwide have felt before. I'm not alone in my yearning for resolution and solace.

So many people ache to know love, and too many struggle to maintain it. Equilibrium is attainable in chemistry; a perfect balance of forward and backward reactions that, if conditions remain constant, could retain it's oxidation and reduction rate forever. Human relationships aren't the same. Love can never find a balanced plane. The frugal nature of its instability is what makes it such a raw, passionate emotion felt by (a precious) few.

It's difficult to sleep when you count down the hours to what feels like the apocalypse. Indigestion sucks. Love can be wonderful. But it can also be hard, harder than a horny stallion's boner.