Wasting My Time

by Megan Auffart
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This has to be one of the best poems I've written in ages, but that's my opinion and I really need to hear yours. Please, please, leave a review. Thanks.

Treasure the pleasure of our wasted leisure

I had forgotten just how good it felt
to fuck it all, leave it be, let it hang out
Forget all the deadlines, forget all the bills
forget the insurance, the wages, the wills
The will...
I had lost mine long ago,
Back in a world where two feet of snow
was a miracle sent down from heaven above.
It snowed and so then we could do what we loved;
we could play
we could be
we could say what we wanted
and never be hunted
for using our voices
and actually claim to have thoughts of our own.
The snow days were welcomed
when we could stay home
and forget all the hatred our peers had created
in classrooms where children were kept and sedated
and made to forget their beliefs and opinions.
To learn facts!
To take tests!
To give up our choices
…Where we would be hated for using our voices.
And I had forgotten just how great it felt
to quit all my thinking and let it hang out;
all my thoughts
all my words
all the things that I knew
were stupid and pointless
and utterly new
and thus wonderful;
I had forgotten the bliss
of not having deadlines
of not being dead
with thousands of whispers
that buzzed in my head
saying, “do the work do the work do the work now!
“you’re stupid and lazy, a fat ugly cow!”
“and to prove yourself you must remember the truth”
“that everything that you believed in your youth”
“was wrong!”
Again and again, they’d repeat
that same little song,
with caution, discreet,
and I would be the only one who would hear it
and I would be the only one who would know it
and I alone would be the one who would bear it
Believing that all that they whispered had merit
A fool.
A bitch.
Too fat and too weird
to ever be loved
to ever be heard
to ever write down a single good word
that was worth the effort of those who would read it
They whispered, “forget it”
and I would agree
that ever believing that actually giving
a piece of myself through my words and my writing
was not worth the risk…
I found myself hiding
within all my work and my deadlines and dues
missing my chances
ignoring my cues
and reminding myself,
again and again,
this somehow was worth it;
the hiding within,
that hating myself was a great sacrifice
that would make me loved,
make me good
make me thin
I wanted to be the beloved of men,
A treasure worth hunting,
A treasure worth having,
And all of the whispering words started laughing.
I can remember how, years before now,
when the snow had kept falling
stalling the plow,
how suddenly the day would be opened wide
like a flower, a lover,
the first burst of pride
after years of the classrooms
quelling our hearts
dissected like music and taken apart.
I can remember and I can pretend
to make it that way
to be that again
and treasure the pleasure of my wasted leisure
given to no one but myself alone,
whispers all muted
and work left undone,
the hate disappearing
the race still not won…
I had forgotten how good it could be
to leave all my labors
in favor of me.