Ha! "Well I guess it doesn't matter any more..." - Buddy Holly

Clean.

Clean out the crevices that are encrusted with patronizing dust.
Clean up my mind of insecurities and hurt from old associations.
Clean sweep the cupboards of painful nonsense that is hiding in the corners.
Clean off the old wounds and see the soft and healthy new skin underneath.
Clean clear my heart from the cares and attachments that only cause pinching pain.
Clean the house of all ridiculous false remedies.

Done.

Done with bullshit.
Done pretending.
Done listening to lies.
Done in assuming the best-case scenario.
Done dealing with people who can't get over their own stupid shit.
Done trying to diffuse a silly blame-game that isn't real anyway.

Time.

Time to stop trying.
Time that you let go of being courteous; it's not appreciated.
Time you appreciate the people currently in your life who are honest, open, loving and true.
Time is there for the taking.
Time for a time-out from the destructive emotional crap that keeps bringing brought up.
Time lost to forgetting how long I've been trying to help situations that don't want help.

Throw.

Throw caution to the wind and dump the crappy feelings after it.
Throw out the thoughtful garbage I've been carrying around.
Throw forcefully, the silly notions that I am responsible for anyone's feelings excepting mine own.
Throw to the heavens any left-over remnants of useless clutter.
Throw up the partially digested emotional matter that DOESN'T MATTER.
Throw through the crumbling boundaries that never worked and weren't strong anyway.

Shout.

Shout forth all the feelings that are being felt strongly and haven't been acknowledged.
Shout to the earth, sky and sea that it's finally over.
Shout that the facts are that it never mattered as much as it was supposed to.
Shout the eggshells to dust, that I've been carefully walking on.
Shout over the floating debris of hurt feelings that aren't mine, that it's all a matter of perspective.
Shout clean down to my toes that I'm relieved of duty.

Stomp.

Stomp through the reeds of self doubt.
Stomp up the poor-me-mentality that things can't be helped.
Stomp to bits the web of blame that's been woven out of delusion.
Stomp viciously the false flowers of friendship that weren't real.
Stomp high and low for any escaped misconceptions.
Stomp delicately through the mud of the demolished feelings until they're thoroughly ground up.

Stop.

Stop everything and breathe until it's all passed through your system.
Stop worrying and enjoy the release of the burden.
Stop wishing you could fix things; you're free and you were never broken to begin with.
Stop thinking about any of it.
Stop trying to preserve anyone's feelings, but your own.
Stop and give thanks that you're FINISHED!