The Quagmire

When small items I am seeking,
through my teeth, complaints I'm speaking,
when I, for scant time was eking,
dropped them in the drawer.
The insidious temptation,
blocker of future elation,
regret bearing notation:
dropped them in the drawer

Casual placement now regretting,
loss of time my day besetting,
causing me excessive fretting,
digging in the drawer.
digging in the drawer with panic,
turning livid, turning manic,
location seeming oceanic,
digging in the drawer

Thinking of an ordered process,
craving for predicted access,
with a small iota, success,
find what's in the drawer.
Hopeless, hopeless, will I ever,
before clear thought I sever,
and, beat, admit I'll never
find what's in the drawer

From my subconscious taunting,
things, obscure, dropped in, are haunting,
never finding what I'm wanting,
in that accursed drawer.
Tempted to expletive,
wishing I could unlive,
this job to others give,
in that accursed drawer

Promising myself I'll never,
should I find the thing, however,
the habit from myself, I'll sever,
of dropping things in drawer.
It will be a resolution
for this plague a good solution,
not support the institution
of dropping things in drawers.