it’s monday morning,
as slow and painful
as present wednesday
weekend at the door.
I wish every day was a Friday,
that seven-day repetition that
I no your walking through
my door, no looking back...
Were here all night a 2.5 fraction
of a week where theres just me
and you, just us....
Runing a 4.5 day missing you
to a weekend of just us
through the minutes to hours
to the where did this
The alram sounds, then the race
to the end of the weekned
starts,finishing as we count mistakes
of days that we catch on to a friday.
Your here now, were sorry I missed you,
but the weekend is ours..
no leaving, were just us, me and you.
I've missed more than just your body,
missing your breath on me,
but now were here in this moment,
long live every weekend when your next to me.
The Day is the Year is the Month
Not of passage but of transit
Evening to Morning, Dark to Light
And Seven Days decreed as a Week
Unmarked, of abstraction, not perception
And Seven of Seven is the Week of Weeks
Of Time marked by the Sun
The Pentecost and Jubilee is the Day
After Seven of Seven Days and Years
But of Time marked by the Moon,
the Seventh is the First, the First, the Seventh
And Seven of Seven is 42 months or 1260 Days
Now what do the Stars do for time?
Oh my dear Sunday
Your thought brings peace and blessings
Oh my dear Monday
Your thought brings anxiety and stress
Oh my dear Tuesday
Your thoughts bring a bit of cheer and hope
Oh my dear Wednesday
Your thought brings us relief that we are in the middle of this week
Oh my dear Thursday
Your thought brings us cheer because tomorrow is a Friday
Oh my dear Friday
Your thought brings us anticipation and thrill to spend the weekend
Oh my dear Saturday
Your thought brings us comfort and laziness through the entire day
Welcome back, my dear Sunday.
And Monday we will never miss you !!!!
I was Wooing My Honey,
on a dark lonely Night.
The Stars were missing
and the Moon was nowhere in Sight.
We were sailing in Italy,
on the Waters of Lake Como.
of Our Nightmare near Mount Bromo.
The Waves were Flirting
and Romancing the Shore.
Her Kisses started pouring
and we're sweeter than Before.
As Our bodies went Sailing,
from one position to Another.
The Rain came Tumbling,
changing the ****** Weather.
As Our Romance reached,
it's Mountain Peak.
Our Bodies were Locked,
putting an end to The Week.
it's not the sound that you miss
or the view
or even the touch
or the lips
or the sound of the walking shoes
rushing forward in a stamping blitz
halted by the shadow's looming lightlessness
its not any of this
what you miss is knowing
knowing that you're not standing next to the wind
or particles drifting through your hands-
that someone is there
and they have no plans of going-
The chill crawls up my spine
Its tendrils of fingers intertwine
I walk a never ending line:
Anxiety that goes on
I stumble forward, determined but weak
I can’t remember how to speak
But from my mouth: a mournful shriek
Will there be a dawn?
Whispers begin to fill the air
They come and go from nowhere
Were they even real? Is nothing there?
Fear has a reek
What brought me to this dark place
What set me on this eternal race
What being or spirit, what face?
Ah, it’s finals week.
A little humor to end off finals week for some of us :) who knew one week could feel so long...
Little hope dies,
I survive the week
And the next one
comes again to ****.