Stop Doing Laundry

This morning was the worst he had felt in years, because last night was the best he'd have for years.  The initiation of young love has that special prowess of turning one‘s world upside-down.  Nothing was helping.  The sinuous path of wandering thoughts would not release him from that same dreaded destination.  Again he was left to mull over the same memory, trying desperately to keep it from fading.  The passion of last evening took him by surprise with how naturally things occurred, like it all had been scripted.  Though it was just the culmination of his desire from the past year.  He had become a love fiend, getting his fix from nothing more than instances.  Foolishly he had let her become his muse for existence.  Addicted to the hopelessness, he allowed the pangs of longing consume him day by day.  He would eat without tasting, sleep without dreaming, live without feeling.  A myriad of nights spent filled with chagrin, each time he'd rise would have him less in love with her, but more in love with his affliction.  His shadow his only confidant, he keeps on walking.