relief for days

The relief lasts for days 

you've postponed and postponed 

in increasingly vain 

and ridiculous ways 

as the ugly necessity 

grows on your mind. 

Tormenting you endlessly, 

days turning weeks 

to bile and slime 

in increasing waste 

of dragging time. 

Each spare moment bastes 

suffused in the taste 

until this becomes 

time's signature pace 

and marinade, 

and the pounding grows
in futile waves of useless 

ways. Insistent, ignored, 

denied, dismissed, and back
for more 

Since everyone knows 

this thing must be done. 

So you do. In a fury 

of misplaced, much-belated 

haste, and not much fun
- to begin with, at least.

Sometimes once you start,
you get into it. It's the starting
that's hard. The impossible bit.
So you do,
and you go,
and go on 'til it's done.
And you look around pissed
at all of it.

Not pleased
in the slightest, just done
with this shit.

But then, passing moments
in passing days, you notice
the pressure and point of prompt
jabs in, except -  

there's nothing to do.
It's all been done. Nothing left.
All through.

There's relief for days and days
spooling out 'til the tension and taut
of tightened and twisted nerve, 
slow-ratcheting up, day by day
is released, plays out and unwinds
to stay.