Down and down I go this aisle with cart Oh hi man how are you? I’m fine that’s ‘ight and you I’m good thx yeah for me there someth? Oh yeah this here and this one pink envelope? well that’s from you know oh yes that’s one well fine okay have a good day yeah bye and off I go again for me? Yeah this I do not like him I try to keep him off my sight and mind but smile nice shirt oh yeah? just ironed well bye-bye pretentious ***** and phony also this is **** I should of said that next time sure for sure ensure the screech is pleasant to lubricate forgot après this finished howdy-rowdy for me smth no pardon c’est fine go by there’s really nothing poor old creep for him man’ years he here and not one sheet that’s triste but oh again this cramp should aim for loo ma’am après vous those thighs in nylon wiggle-waggle just like Bloom I am that day today but winter tho’ though onward batches envelopes and stamps hiya my mate how miles per day come forth that’s heyyy that is the one I yeahyeahyeah dumbf nonono he’s just like I like you like me obnoxious clown to grab and off this floor should be enough to from this height his gray to smash to mash this one is fine to smash to mash oh yuck this almost got me shhhhh
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Thump

There's no words to describe the feeling of you kissing my cheek
Kiss my mouth to get me started
Plant one on my cheek to be sweet
But you don't need to be sweet with me
It's all just routine

The platform is quiet when I arrive.
The walk home is long.

The road is busy with lights, but no faces.
I should have worn gloves.

Nearly there now.
Someone's home but nobody was waiting.

I pull a smile out my pocket and drop my keys,
Then I listen to words about the day.

My bed brings solitude,
While questions crawl behind my eyes.

Scraping inside my skull, they're familiar,
And I drift off on their backs.

i was so used to people leaving
that it occurred to me like a habit
–a daily routine, a little less off my to do list

it was always bound to happen
like a messy bed after a night's sleep
then I will open my eyes
when the clock ticks at eight

i was used to people leaving
that i leave the front door open
and keep it unlocked as a habit
so ill have little less people to keep

The worst part waking up each day
Realizing my life is still this way
I want to change
Be something more
Don't want breathing to feel like a chore
With a man who does best to make
Smile though his I only take
I am a thief
Happiness and joy
What I steal I don't get to keep and enjoy
I know wishing others to understand
Make them see it from where I stand
I just **** them with destructive habit
In pursuit of an unreachable white rabbit
I am sick of picking scabs on my face
Screaming to world that I am a disgrace
But distance between where I am at
Where I was
Is a reminder that
Nothing but the loneliness feels the way it once did
Am so hardened
My feelings I hid
Because no effort is ever good enough
No longer try
But I'm failing to bluff
They asked if okay
If I'm sure I'm alright
Lie but it's clear that my answers not right
Nothing hurts because I've gone numb
The awful monotony I've all but succumbed
Rock bottom and bottoms up!
Where I'm stuck between
Each day follow the same sickening routine

There are flowers on the window sill.
Wildflowers in a blue vase.
A small oasis
in a life that is anything but.

You release a sigh,
and with it, tension.
You focus, completely on the still life

and feel your own heart still,
your breath slow.
You fall into yourself,

You sip your coffee,
your morning slowed to the point
you control it. Not the other way around.

There is a small smile on your face.
Today will be a day of victories.
You know it, not even knowing the battles that await you.

Still. Slow. Aware,
you are invincible.

Desperation within these darker places,
I have an ironed out yearning to bid farewell to those faces,
Who chase me down their corridors of boredom,
I'm towel dried by routine and so stripped of wisdom.

That slithering hand around that cold, lifeless face,
****** and clockwise at one insipid pace,
Tells me I'm late and I've just missed mirth's deadline,
So here I am, consigned to this, life's callous, common flatline.

But I will rage and I will curse at the dust and dawn,
I'll think tightly of a polished image and forget that despotic yawn,
I'll beg truth to show me beauty, ardor and distress,
And I will open my enervated eyes to this old miraculous mess.