My boss is humming a song,
While I pick at my check mix.
I eat the almonds with the m&m;'s,
And the raisins with the peanuts.

My break is almost over and I stand up
And walk out of the door.
I adjust my clothes, and start with my
Right foot out of the door.
I continue walking.

Earlier today I noticed that my post-it was moved from the window wall to the shelf wall.

I'll let that go without saying anyhting even though it bothers me so much.

Let it go.
Break the routine.
Forget patterns.

You can busy yourself about the day
Keep the wretched words away
Write, so they are not so strong
Read, so you do nothing wrong.

They will catch up on you, however
With you and your heart forever,
These tiny little gnawing thoughts
With their presence you are lost.

Among the headaches and the pain
In this place nothing to gain

Shut your eyelids tight
When the stars are high
And the moon is bright

But try and wish what you may
You cannot keep the thoughts away
On your little devoured soul
You wish, you wish you could be whole.

Looking up to the sun as the light gradually declined,
in my solitary there was something missing,
it could be a void I could've sworn vame from my heart,
or the lack of sleep shown from the never-ending trail of bags under my eyes.
I'd tell myself,
"Maybe I didn't do my homework,"
"Maybe I didn't wash my hands,"
"Maybe I didn't take a shower,"
"Maybe I didn't do my homework,"
"Maybe I didn't brush my hair,"
"Maybe I didn't do my homework,"
All of the endless possibilities that drive me mad to the core while trying to figure out exactly what was missing from my day;
you've shown up and helped push it away.
Maybe it'll only be for a short time span,
or only for a brief moment.
Until there's a day that comes along,
and you decide to go,
I know you'll keep me sane.

how mad are you
from 1 to 10?

2 is the guy that
despite being left-handed
always puts first the right foot shoe

6 is the woman that
like a little girl
can not step the joints between the pavement

9 is the man that
has full arguments with his inner self
and then write poems about it


we all are a little bit mad
mentally unstable
remains to know
in which numbers should we stick the label