(breathe.)

I. Monday

Lethargy is your close friend
the weight of its hand on your shoulder
is both familiar and heavy
you want to push it away
but these days
you need company more than dignity

(in and out)

II. Tuesday

You always hate this day
your coffee always turn sour
and the sky always seems so bleak
you try to convince yourself
it does not have anything to do
with the ever absent table in front of you

(breathe.)

III. Wednesday

Scrolling down through facebook
you see pictures of your high school friends
you scowled and keep scrolling
the taste of toilet water and stale food
still ripe on your tounge
you grimaced
a therapy add pops up into your monitor

(the bile is normal. breathe)

IV. Thursday

You wonder about greek gods
about their passion that turned cruel
you also wonder why things are called things
and other inane things
you wonder a lot
why rice tasted nice
why blue sounds sad
why your brother never came home

(exhale and inhale)

V. Friday

Five, that's the number of people in your family
Your father, who always phones at midnight
your mother, who stayed in the kitchen weeping
your brother, who you never seen again
your sister, who wear short skirts to hide the bruises on her
you, who swallowd too many pills to remember how to be human

(don't try to stop breathing. It's important)

VI. Saturday

It's almost over now
you wrote down every word you remember
from their letter that they sent 2 years ago
before they became a mess of mutated cell
you keep telling your self they're still the same
you lie to yourself so you can sleep at night
denying that change is inevitable
you have mutated too
the infection were from yourself

(in out in out inoutinoutinout)

VII. Sunday

The sun is shining bright today
but the lights are blinding
and you burrow further into the blanket
not smiling as hands brushes your hair
they're the skeleton begging to be out
from the closet you locked them
you pursed your lips
Golden liqiud it is

(breathe and look up.)

the town is crumbling
                        the bell is tolling
                        the dead ones are rolling

and we're still sinning
        while the whole world is burning

smoke bombs
vivid colors, fumes that clog your throat
how humane it is to sacrifice yourself
just to see a hint of beauty in our life
we cough and we cough and we cough
until we spat blood out on our hand
brimming with the potency of sheer
stubborn humanity of wanting to live
in paradise of beautiful things on earth.

****** knees, dark circles
wearing insecurities like its the new trend
baring your heart to the world
presenting it, thinking it'll hurt less
if you volunteer

but bile still creeps up your throat
as each stab of society knife plunges
into your head quarters
bypassing every defense you have
leaving shattered denials and false truths

you recite your gospels, your mantra
everynight you went down on your knees
you prayed and you prayed
until there is nothing but obliteration of
one sense of humanity

spider thread, you grasp them
and you hung from the ceiling
with all your dreams and silence
watching you as a spectator
as you spilled your gut
voice dead inside

i can't sleep
my head's too loud to be ignored
my heart too heavy
my voice to small to be heard
over fresh new screams coming from
behind the doors of fake heaven

Dust.
    Dusk.
        Duck.
                            Your allergies, your tragedies.
                  Your lies, your trials, your smiles.
        Your wariness, sweetness, bitterness.
Hidden, always hidden.
In plain sight you left your traces.
    Constellations of footprints, paper pieces.
    A beating heart, that beats not for it host.
                            Thumping, crashing.
Silver scar, hunting knife.
Apollo and Artemis blessing.
            
              The pattern of your orbits.
                                                Pleasure.
Closure.
                          Erasure.
Deleted, that's what they said.
Said, said, says.
Liar, liar, pant's on fire.
    Denial runs deep, drowning
                  Always forever drowning.
Tracing your existence, as it blinks out.

You left, with unfinished business.
                              They scattered, the remains
                              Of the ashes of your
            Photograph.
A dent in my soul,
                                            A trench in my heart.
Beating in agony over the ripped part.

      A tome that will self destruct.
              
                          A tomb for you and your memoir.