feels like a re-run,
a cig you ***
when you’re down
on your luck.
something is about to break,
maybe it’s your day
or maybe
it’s just you.

When
At the end of the day
or in a lull of a moment
you won’t think of me.

Dawn shed its colors
as night passed by,
giving way to daylight.
Wide-eyed, constantly neglecting
dreams cast
somewhere on the pillow.

Tried, but certain warmth would not keep.
Waiting- traffic and work.
Meanwhile a yearning stagnantly weighs.
Once more committed. Another day to waste
whilst dreams lay
somewhere on the pillow.

Baby blue
against egg white,
silver framed mirror
near the pale light;
exposed bulb,
dust ridden.
~All mired in mediocrity,
stretching the lines
and still
falling short of meaning;
always lacking a certain capacity
to emote.

Vow to live.
To meet the days
in revolt.
Death will come nonetheless;
but make no time for death,
rather for life.

Not an ounce of anger
nor arden rage
which typically fill the pages.
There’s a subtle calm
causing such hesitation;
a sense of being stuck.
-Restless, drifting
in a sea of tranquility.