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The Troubles of Morning, Noon & Night

I never looked in the right places.
After all,
whatever I write down or say
in one fell swoop
I'll take it all back.

With an axe
I broke this table in half.
Yet you still think it's nothing more
but molecules
simply reorganized.
How quaint.
The table can reorganize in a moment.
It's taking me a lifetime
to recuperate.

The door was wide open
and you never came.
Never bothered to venture inside
where it was warm and orangey
like a confessional booth.
You could have laid it all out to dry
your sweaty insides.

I know what troubles you.
And the troubles that follow you.
They abut between your mornings and evenings.
Persisting
and persistence is genius!
But we never grow intellectually.
Our minds concave in the middle
and hollow out.

Devoid of thought-
Only room for worries, worries, worries.

When I asked for a hand
I was handed a manual.
"Figure it out for yourself, honey."
But the words transform into black blobs
after the third line.

When will you finally whittle away?
Why do you say you give up
when you already refuse to try?
Why always moving, darling?
And if you must move-
move quick,
move soon.
Move me.