Ahead of me are storm clouds gathering.
Gathering violently.
I can't escape this each time.
My time to leave.
My time to run,
I'm sorry I just can't outrun it this time.
But in the nic of time,
I get swept up.
There's no way to get out of it now.
These storm clouds are of a different variety.
Ones full of different emotions.
Ones full of hate.
No matter how hard you try,
You can't outrun family.

When you wake and think it's Monday night, then you look again, it's getting lighter, it seems that dream was just a noose that's twisting tighter around your neck.

She gives me a peck, is this what I have become?
a crumb for her to nibble on.

I persevere
shower and shave,
I will forever be
a slave to coffee,
tea
is not me
not
on a Monday
not
when I wake and then think
that it's done
only to realise
Monday
has not yet begun.

Immersed in your energies,
I am trapped
inside the cemented
memory
of your hard embrace.

Pinned,
I struggle to set
free the fiery passion
from my molten core.

Not unlike a meteor
races toward Earth
knowing it will perish,
I am defiant.

I penetrate the barrier

Now I am meteor dust
that will transform into snow
that will one day
melt in your mouth.