It's Monday.
You snooze your alarm and tell yourself that you deserve 5 more minutes.
Within 5 minutes
105 people that you do not know will die.
This is not to encourage you to get out of bed, this is simply a fact.
You get into your shower.
The hot water burning into your flesh, reminding you that you are made up of nothing but blood, muscle and flesh.
You close your eyes and think about the long day ahead of you, the people you want to avoid.
The excuse you'll tell your boss about your lateness, you realize "I needed 5 more minutes" will not suffice here.
You think about the fact that it's only a Monday.
You get out. Gently pat yourself dry. And stare at yourself. You begin to notice a new freckle, bag, roll, and hair that wasn't there last Monday.
You wonder what will be there next Monday. If you'll be there next Monday.
If 100 Mondays ago you'd imagine your day going exactly like this.
You looking exactly like this.
Who would know your life would turn out exactly like this.
You put on your costume
The normal khaki pants, polo shirt combo you've perfected.
You put on your smile.
You put on your kind voice.
And you're ready to shine.
You've become your worst nightmare,
A prisoner of routine.
But don't worry, you can always try to break the cycle next Monday.

I spent awhile
In a honey-barbeque
Chicken salad of
Cynicism.

And then one day
Instead of Frank
I was no longer Bryan
But a better version of my Mondays.

Or was it the
Lesser form a
Thursday takes
When you're alone?

I have a desire
Shaded in the glow
Of a stained glass
Display an hour away.

A wish, shrouded in
These filmy layers
Of forgotten words
And remembered sayings.

To be half of one
And twice of me
So I stopped seeing stars
And dropped the peace-sign for a dash.

Reinvented myself
To break all molds
And here I stand, slightly
More intact, I'm back.

Being a weekend binge drinker I don’t really like Mondays
my poor fragile mind is in a alcohol daze,
my limbs are slow and heavy, each movement is a trial
I feel like I’ve ran a marathon after swimming the length of The Nile,
I lop around all zombiefied my legs are full of lead
my eyes are groaning loudly, like an extra from The Walking Dead,
I’m on the verge of snoozing, I do that sleepy involuntary ****,
I pinch myself real hard “Si you have to stay awake in work!”.
So I take a trip to the disabled toilet and have a nap on the ceramic floor,
hoping I’ll feel much better after this tad of a tiny snore,
I rouse after ten minutes and decide to control this ***** ridden strife,
I must get a grip soon, I want a grasp on this Monday life,
a light bulb pings out of nowhere to brighten my maudlin mood,
this sweet recovery will be engendered by lots scrumptious of food,
so I indulge in a savoury overload and gorge on toast and crisps;
Discos, Hula Hoops, Quavers and defo tons of Frisps,
on my dinner I scoff a Mac Donalds and then a Greg’s sausage roll,
this hungry Homer gluttony helps to sustain my whole,
the calorific sustenance does it’s job and my hangover starts to diminish,
I gaze at the computer’s clock and think “hey it’s time I finished!”.
I ponder “ohh I can glide home knowing my day is done
and if it stays sweet and bright I can enjoy a few hours in the sun,
after that I can watch Breaking Bad and catch up with Coronation Street
while busting out the texts and having more to eat,
yeah I’m see what Walter White’s up to while being really greedy,
wait a ******* minute, tonight’s when I’ve said I’d help the needy!
*******, **** **** **** ****, that’s my evening of chilling down the spout,
rather than a hammock night in I’ve got to venture out
and feed a load of ungrateful gits who don’t even clear their plates
and ask me if I’m a cross dresser while sniggering with their mates,
rather then see if Jesse gets caught by Hank and how the story unfolds
I’ll have to scrub those scrubbers dishes pristine while wearing marigolds,
as oppose to nodding off reading with a Rustlers under my front room lamp
I’ll have to put a load of cutlery away after making a 20 sugar brew for a *****!"
So I decide the Wellspring is off tonight as I really can’t be assed going
I’ll just graft extra hard for *** next week and keep the drinks a flowing,
so I’m just about to pick my phone up and call in with a excuse that’s pretty lamey
but then I realise if I don’t go I won’t get to see Amy!
Suddenly there is a spring in my step, my motion feels on point
I shower very quickly and post drying roll a joint,
I have a zip in my posture as I sail and blaze down the road
all my thoughts of staying in they instantly erode,
I think “Amy is ace and topper, in her company all is fun
she’d make a day of gloom resplendent with the sun,
her chirping silly noises are always brill in the air
she turns my giggles to def com one, I laugh without a care,
I mean I know I'm hilarious, I can feel my own strengths in my head and tummy
but when I'm with Amy I'm even more funny!  
She makes it all sunny!
Cos we can berate that gormless Declan who eats with the speed of a cheetah
say he's troffing all the time, like a professional eater,
we can spray a bit of water, have a lot of chat
teleport through nonsense with the free degree of claptrap,
chill around the washer where all the cool kids hang
kicking back like Gs, knowing all the slang,
flick a fleck of sausage then have a speaking swirl
flex the talking muscles with sweet balletic twirl.
I mean she's not perfect, she could improve her lot
she's pretty immodest, always going on about how she's so hot,
alright supermodel, calm down, yeah, okay you were blessed with good looks
be you know being arrogant really ******* *****.
And she don't like the ***** cats, her brain must have a feline blur
how can she not warm to their whiskers and their contented little purrs,
her eyes sometimes don't always work and she is optically infirm
and she steals pies from the scrotes, she don't know to wait her turn,
she'd stab you in the back for a go at the counter, she's always trying to grab the lead,
and added to all that she can't even ******* read!
(I'm surprised you can read this actually.)
But i'll overlook these foibles, her flaws aren't yet that drastic
she has to merge some yang in there to be so yin fantastic!
Ahh, in this life where what was can no longer leave a reflection
it's always super to feel the natural flow of connection;
glowing with simplicity
our joyous synchronicity!"
So i approach the door of The Wellspring and feel sweet and glad
and think, "you know for a Monday you aint turned out too bad!".

Eager flesh finds ways to claw in memories when nails are stripped to the skin.
Find pieces left with torn edges like tragedies but don't let your demons in.

Weave vines through your ribs and roses through your eyes, for this life you'll have to fare.
Cemeteries feel so empty without your bones to bare.

And I beg you to bury the parts of yourself that remain unclean.
I only want your sin if its in between my sheets.

If God had to go back
to work on Monday
Bet he would have invented, then rested,
More days than just Sunday.

I'm cursing my alarm--
Using, in vain, the name of his son.
Wishing that God would have rested
More days than just one.

monday hit you like a stack of bricks. ultimately, she tried to fix you. you probably dated her early on. fists full of highlighters and notebooks left no room for your hand to hold. she was too focused on the future, she forgot about the present. half here, half there, flittering in and out of reality. she made being together feel scheduled. monday drowned you in her sea of checklist bulletpoints.

you can’t remember tuesday all that much. the milky blue of the tattoo on your left knee is all you have left of her. you finger it fondly, a ghost of a memory.

wednesday made you want to change yourself. but you are not play dough, not created to be moulded. she gave you the urge to be someone new. but you lost yourself in her passions. you will never understand wednesday.

thursday got you back on track, but it felt like a routine. surely there’s something more. there were things you loved about thursday, but it felt like you were waiting for something else. you sat on the couch together like bookends, not a pair. thursday was a marionette show, you were run by the strings.

friday was a dream. she was a perfect 10. you felt free with friday. but then friday got a little crazy. you couldn’t keep up with her. carefree nights turned into mornings of advil chased by black coffee. when she snuck under the rusty chain link fence and beckoned for you to follow her to paradise you walked away with a scar from a stray wire. she only gained happy memories. you were sinking in the very tequila shots that made her float.

after you recovered from friday, you met saturday. aren’t we all racing through monday through friday in hopes that we finally meet saturday? saturday was fun. she was different from the others. you fell in love with saturday. but sometimes, saturday doesn’t always work out. you had plans and hopes for saturday, but as you look back and realize, she wasn’t everything you always wanted it to be. saturday broke your heart. but, for every saturday you face, there will be a sunday.

you know when you see sunrise after staying up all night and a feeling of pure serenity washes over you? that’s what it’s like to meet a sunday. you can be yourself around sunday. sunday helps you become a better person. she kisses your scars left from the others. sundays are magical, but they are also human. she will not sit on a pedestal, but sit beside you in the most human form. there will still be bumps on the road, but that road will lead to happiness.