I've always preferred finding out what time it was by looking at the watches of strangers,
Preferably on a morning carriage where the forgotten time difference from fading holidays meet the eternally shaken bracelets
Strangers, on their way to an oversized office smelling like old tea and leftover birthday cake.

My eyes, moving from one being to the next,
wondering if they woke up in their own bed.
Disparate attires or obedient consumerism, smells of cologne and *****, unironed shirts and loose ties,
Remains of a night too quickly ended or of a morning that started off wrong.
Strangers, burning the courage to face the dread of small talk talk and mindless tasks.

A half hour turnover of faces, smells and stories,
Strangers, unknowingly sharing their lives with me.

Balance
Comes in the morning
Before chaos
Has settled into its afternoon
Routine, I pause
In these moments
Hands open and flat
Slowly breathing, allowing
The light to capture
Me evenly

Your voice was never mine in morning
You were a bird of later light
And you would smile
Each day
Each day
To say that you’re alright

You needed your coffee
To satiate your internal plight
As hungriness
Would sway
Would sway
Your mood ‘till your first bite

The crunch of butter covered toast
Your taste of the egg whites
You chose the yolks
To stay
To stay
Your breakfast at its height

You’d smile and say good morning
And there you were, my perfect wife
We’d go outside
Parkways
Beach days
Or an afternoon hike

It’s been a month and you’ve gone now
I dream of you at night
I think of you
Always
Always
As tears I consistently fight

I sleep inside our bedroom
I still whisper to you “Sleep tight”
You went in your sleep
No pain
No pain
After fighting with all your might

Your voice was never mine in morning
But you were my sun, so bright
And I find I miss
Your grace
Your face
Amidst the morning light

forgotten,
egg yolk splits, sautées
golden sun between butter and pepper
white halo hardens, boils bubbling a ***** browning
while the one yellow eye runs
with the clock hands
carefully I peel the rubbery flesh away
lay it on saucer, slather bread with butter
already wondering what wry churns the day brings.

High and noble
clawing back up to confidence
the fractionalized ebb and flow of my self-development
It sinks to laze and despair
then comes back with newfound action and plans
Just constricting and expanding
in the entropy of a universe
where everything else does the same (collapse)
recognizing so I can do better than better each time
Wondering if it's just my body
What pills did I did or did not take?
What did I or did not eat?
One weekend off and I'm knocked out
but what's worse
the routine or the break?

Every day as I drag this body out of bed
It speaks in ways I cannot comprehend.
“Tired.” It says but its eyes are awake
With a defeated look it closes them again.

Its weight on my back tires me enough
To sit at intervals, places smooth or rough.
Sometimes as I get back on my feet again
It pulls me back sharply, darkening my brain.

Somehow once again, I know I’ll adapt
To this routine of falling and getting back.
Through these days there’s something to gain,
The truth in its eyes when I see in reflection, its face.

When morning comes and I wipe away the tears
From your face, you are alarmed by their existence.

You hurry to the shower, leaving a trail of clothes in your wake.
Symbolic of your desire to shed yesterday's stresses.

You let the water run down your face and think,
I could let it out now.  This is my last chance to cry.

The water runs cold, back to your senses.
Times wasting, places to go, people to see.

You stand in front of your reflection judging.
You lack grace, you lack confidence, fix your posture.

Should I dress to impress, you ask.  Whatever makes you happy.
You dress for comfort, baggy jeans with a shirt and  zip-up hoodie.

Toast with peach jam.  Your favorite.  A balance of sweet and savory.
A glass of water.  Pills on the side.  You need them apparently.

Keys, wallet, phone and you're out the door.  Deep breath.
If it isn't raining, you wish it were.